“And one of the elders said unto me, ‘Weep not.’”
ST. JOHN.
O, weep not in thy lonely hours,
My Mary! weep not so;
If thou couldst hear my spirit-voice,
Thy tears would cease to flow.
I’d tell thee of thy future home,
Its pure unfading bliss,
Where hearts that once have swell’d with grief
Now swell with happiness.
I’d tell thee how our angel son
Reclines in Jesus’ arms,
Or roams with me these heavenly hills,
Enraptured with their charms.
I’d tell thee how with seraph’s voice
We make these arches ring,
And sound melodious notes of praise
To Heaven’s eternal King.
I’d tell thee how with golden wings
We fly at his command,
Who bought for us this heritage—
This fair delightful land.
I’d tell thee how in God’s own book
I’ve read thy title clear,
I know, my own! my still beloved!
That I shall see thee here.
I’d tell thee of the glorious rest
Remaining yet for thee,
When with thy loved and sainted ones
In Heaven thou shalt be.
I’d tell thee of the honor’d place
The Savior will prepare,
When thou shalt have thy shining crown,
And robes of glory wear.
I’d tell thee how these ransom’d ones
No more shall say farewell,
Forever in these realms of joy
Unparted may we dwell.
I’d tell thee how we long for thee,
And soon expect thee here,
Where all thy sorrows shall be past,
Forgotten every tear.
O, weep not in thy lonely hours,
My Mary! weep not so;
If thou couldst hear my spirit-voice,
Thy tears would cease to flow.
CHARLESTON, June 20, 1840.