Now utter calm and rest;
Hands folded o'er the breast
In peace the placidest,
All trials past;
All fever soothed—all pain
Annulled in heart and brain,
Never to vex again—
She sleeps at last.
She sleeps; but O most dear
And best beloved of her
Ye sleep not—nay, nor stir,
Save but to bow
The closer each to each,
With sobs and broken speech,
That all in vain beseech
Her answer now.
And lo! we weep with you,
One grief the wide world through:
Yet with the faith she knew
We see her still,
Even as here she stood—
All that was pure and good
And sweet in womanhood—
God's will her will.