Yes, she is gone—yet do not thou
The good­ness of the Lord dis­trust;
But meek­ly to His wis­dom bow,
Who lays thy loved one in the dust.
The form is there—but seek not there
The spi­rit born for light and love;
Look up­ward—free from sin and care,
It rests in joy with God above.

Through ma­ny check­ered scenes of life
Ye hand in hand have jour­neyed on;
For her the la­bor and the strife
Are o’er—the peace­ful goal is won.
The plea­sant voice and cheer­ing smile,
Which oft have soothed thy ha­rassed mind,
Are gone but for a lit­tle while,
She hath not left thee far be­hind.

Then mourn not that an heir of grace,
Has reached the goal of hope and faith,
Press on­ward in the Chris­tian race,
Brief is your part­ing now by death;
Soon thou too wilt be called to leave
This earth, where sad­ly thou dost roam;
Soon, joy­ful­ly wilt thou re­ceive,
In Heav’n, her gen­tle Wel­come home.