Occasioned by the Death of FRANCES R. CHAMBERLAIN.
Dear Sister thou hast left us here
In this dark vale to mourn and weep;
And while we shed the bitter tear,
Thou dost in Jesus sweetly sleep.
Thy work is done, thy sufferings o'er,
Yes thou art sleeping in the Lord,
And soon thou'lt wake to weep no more,
But to receive thy rich reward,
We hope to meet thee yet in heaven,
No more to weep around thy bed;
Where parting hands will ne'er be given,
And farewell tears no more be shed.
With rapturous joy there thou shalt meet
Thy parents, who now sleep with thee:
Thy little sister too, so sweet,
Shall join the happy company.
Lift up your heads ye mourning friends,
And wipe away the falling tear,
Prepare for that glad day that ends
Our sorrow, pain, and trials here.
For soon the Resurrection morn
In glorious splendor will appear,
When Christ will for his saints return,
Who love and keep his precepts here.
The far resounding trumpet's tone
Will call the sleeper from her grave,
Together with the ransomed ones
That Christ in glory comes to save.
Yes, he will come, his saints to raise,
Who long have slumbered in the dust,
And shouting forth Emmanuel's praise,
Will rise the millions of the just.
O death, thy work is almost o'er;
For soon will come our glorious king,
And take us to that peaceful shore,
Where saints will never feel thy sting.
WM. H. GRAHAM.
Kensington Conn. Feb 1st, 1856.