One by one, Death calls them away, From the love that would hold, From the arms that enfold. Though we cry, "Stay, oh, stay!" Death answers us "Nay!" And into the gloom Down to the tomb He leadeth the way.
The mother bends over her dying one, Moaning aloud in her despair," "O Death! look on my whitened hair, Life's eventide is drawing on, I need young arms to lean upon." Death answers,"It is God's decree, He chooseth best for her and thee— His will be done."
Then love, in anguish, pleading cried— "O Death! be kind and let her stay, Life is so sweet, and this is May: Oh, do not take my promised bride, A little while let her abide, Summer may free her from the pain And woo her back to health again." But Death replied,
"Look on those anguished eyes, Look at that laboured breath, See! how it struggles beneath The tortured bosom to rise. And will ye moan and weep If God gives the maiden sleep? If He calms that troubled breast, If He gives your dear one rest— The rest that she will prize."
"Cease from mourning—cease! Think me not cruel," said Death. See! and he stopped the breath. Lo! the painful gaspings cease, The weary eyes droop and close: O'er the worn face steals a look of repose; She is over "the river" e'er she knows— For with touch like a soft caress, With an infinite tenderness, To the maiden, Death whispered, Peace.
