[He] died, and was carried by the angels. Luke 16:22
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—
Ring the bell softly, there’s crape on the door;
Ring the bell softly, there’s crape 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—
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,