Our Friends Sleep

The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Jul 5, 1864

Our Friends Sleep.

PALE, cold and beautiful she lay, So full of life but yesterday; A smile upon her lip was playing, As if she had but just been saying, 'Tis sweet to die.

Her golden hair lay smoothly now Upon her fair, white angel brow; Her hands lay still and gently folded, As if of Parian marble moulded, So fair and white.

Her eyes were closed, as if kind sleep Had come upon her gently, deep— Fresh flowers within her hands were lying, Shedding their fragrance, softly dying, Less fair than she.

And hushed each voice, as if a sound Might wake that sleep so deep, profound. And eyes were dim, alas! with weeping For her, so softly, sweetly sleeping, Their cherished one.

The light had faded from their home: Their household joy, their darling one Will come no more—and gloom and sadness Will take the place of joy and gladness For time to come.

Aye, oft thou'lt list that voice to hear, Whose tones will never greet thine ear; Her smiles thou oft wilt see in seeming, And clasp her to thy heart when dreaming, Thine own again.

Look upward—in that Paradise, Where tears shall never dim the eyes, Thou'lt find the friend thou now art weeping, Safe in the fold of God's own keeping, Thine own again.