Let us give thanks that he hath fallen asleep,
Thanks for the finished course, the immortal prize;
Let us give thanks for him the while we weep,—
Such tender memories fill our hearts and eyes.
Let us give thanks that for a time we trod
Life’s path beside him, that we marked him well
And felt how close his fellowship with God,
Who now hath called him with Himself to dwell.
That we have heard his words of holy cheer
And righteous warning;—and more precious yet
His tones of sympathy which none could hear
Uncomforted, nor would again forget.
That while he dwelt on earth we learned to trace
His likeness to his Lord:—not only now
That death has hallowed each remembered grace
And shed a radiance o’er his pallid brow.
For all that he through heavenly aid hath been,
For all that gave him power to help and bless,
His loving wisdom and his joyous mien,
His manly strength and childlike tenderness
For the sweet converse that with him we shared,
Which made Heaven dearer, and yet earth more bright;
For griefs he dreaded and hath now been spared,
And for his mansion in the world of light;
Let us give thanks, nor mar the song of praise
With thought of murmuring, though the stroke that fell
Hath left a deeper shadow on our days,
Let us give thanks, we know that all is well.
Never so glad as when the heart is broken!
Never so joyful as when brought most low!
’Tis then the tender words of peace are spoken,
’Tis then that tears of gladness rise and flow.—
’Tis a hard lesson, hard and slowly taught,
That we are worthless still as in the past
That we who once our sins and follies brought,
Have little else to bring—from first to last.
‛Tis a hard lesson, and we often wait
In outer darkness, longing for the light,
Because we fear to enter through the gate,
And still so poor, into His holy sight—
Wait on the threshold while He waits within,
With such a welcome beaming from His face!
This is the privilege He died to win,
To stretch to all the sceptre of His grace.