on the death of mrs. e. brown.
171
And he, the husband of thy heart,
O'er thy low death-couch bent,
While sorrow, far too deep for words,
His anguished spirit rent.
O'er thy low death-couch bent,
While sorrow, far too deep for words,
His anguished spirit rent.
But ah! ye cannot call her back,—
Dear friends I your tears are vain;
Her eyes are closed, nor will they ope
To earth's vain things again.
But though on earth she lives no more,
In heaven she liveth ever,
And ye, if faithful, soon shall meet,
Where naught fond friends can sever.
Dear friends I your tears are vain;
Her eyes are closed, nor will they ope
To earth's vain things again.
But though on earth she lives no more,
In heaven she liveth ever,
And ye, if faithful, soon shall meet,
Where naught fond friends can sever.
