We can­not think of them as dead
Who walk with us no more;
Along the path of life we tread—
They have but gone be­fore.

The Fa­ther’s house is man­sioned fair
Beyond our v­ision dim;
All souls are His, and here or there
Are liv­ing un­to Him.

But still their si­lent min­is­tries
Within our hearts have place,
As when on earth they walked with us
And met us face to face.

Ours are they by an own­er­ship
Nor time nor death can free;
For God hath giv­en love to keep
Its own eter­nal­ly.