I KNOW THOU HAST GONE TO THE

HOME OF THY REST

I KNOW thou hast gone to the home of thy rest, Then why should my soul be so sad?

I know thou hast gone where the weary are blest, And the mourner looks up and is glad!

Where love has put off in the land of its birth The stains it had gathered in this,

And hope the sweet singer that gladdened the earth

Lies asleep on the bosom of bliss.

I know thou hast gone where thy forehead is starr'd

With the beauty that dwelt in thy soul,

Where the light of thy loveliness cannot be marr'd,

Nor the heart be flung back from its goal. I know thou hast drunk of the Lethe that flows Through a land where they do not forget, That sheds over memory only repose,

And takes from it only regret.

T. K. Hervey.

"HEAR WHAT THE VOICE OF

HEAVEN PROCLAIMS"

HEAR what the voice of heaven proclaims
For all the pious dead:

Sweet is the savor of their names,
And soft their sleeping bed.

They die in Jesus and are blest;
How kind their slumbers are!

From suffering and from sins released

Far from this world of toil and strife,
They're present with the Lord;

The labors of their mortal life

End in a large reward.

Isaac Watts.

NOW THE LABORER'S TASK IS O'ER

Now the laborer's task is o'er,
Now the battle-day is past;

Now upon the farther shore
Lands the voyager at last.
Father, in Thy gracious keeping,
Leave we now Thy servant sleeping.

There the tears of earth are dried;
There its hidden things are clear;

There the work of life is tried
By a juster Judge than here.
Father, in Thy gracious keeping,
Leave we now Thy servant sleeping.

There the sinful souls that turn
To the Cross their dying eyes,
All the love of Christ shall learn
At His feet in Paradise.

Father, in Thy gracious keeping,
Leave we now Thy servant sleeping.

NOW THE LABORER'S TASK IS O'ER

There no more the powers of hell
Can prevail to mar their peace;
Christ the Lord shall guard them well,
He who died for their release.
Father, in Thy gracious keeping,
Leave we now Thy servant sleeping.

"Earth to earth, and dust to dust,"
Calmly now the words we say ;
Left behind, we wait in trust
For the Resurrection day.
Father, in Thy gracious keeping,
Leave we now Thy servant sleeping.

WEEP NOT FOR THE DEAD

Он, weep not for the dead!

Rather, oh, rather give the tear
To those that darkly linger,
When all besides are fled:

Weep for the spirit withering
In its cold, cheerless sorrowing:
Weep for the young and lovely one
That ruin darkly revels on;

But never be a tear-drop shed

For them the pure, the enfranchised dead.

Mary E. Brooks.