Someone has gone from this strange world of ours,
No more to ga­ther its thorns with its flow­ers;
No more to lin­ger where sun­beams must fade,
Where, on all beau­ty, death’s fin­gers are laid.
Weary with ming­ling life’s bit­ter and sweet,
Weary with part­ing, and ne­ver to meet;
Someone has gone to the bright gold­en shore—

Refrain

Ring the bell soft­ly, there’s crepe on the door;
Ring the bell soft­ly, there’s crepe on the door.

Someone is rest­ing from sor­row and sin,
Happy where earth­ly strife en­ters not in;
Joyous as birds, when the morn­ing is bright,
When the bright sun­beams have brought us their light.
Weary with sow­ing, and ne­ver to reap,
Weary with la­bor, and wel­com­ing sleep;
Someone’s de­part­ed to Hea­ven’s bright shore—

Refrain

Angels were anx­ious­ly long­ing to meet
One who walks with them on yon gold­en street;
Loved ones have whis­pered that some­one is blest,
Free from all tri­als, and tak­ing sweet rest.
Yes, there’s ano­ther in an­gel­ic bliss,
One less to cher­ish, and one less to kiss;
One more de­part­ed to Hea­ven’s bright shore,

Refrain