Yes! Daniel, faithful Daniel's gone,
His weeping flock lament their loss;
No more they fix their eyes upon
That zealous preacher of the cross!
No more he meets them at the gate,
No breezes waft his silver'd hair,
While o'er the dead, both small and great,
His soul breathes out the ardent prayer!
Nor from his eye, when grave-scenes call,
His streaming tears are seen to flow,—
Those tears, which to the earth did fall,
And mingle with the dust below.
No more he at the altar stands,
To bless, or break the hallow'd bread,
While from his lips and lifted hands,
Each hungry, holy soul is fed!
But mingled happy saints among,
His ravish'd soul doth now ascend,
To share that bliss which he so long,
To others here did recommend.