Oft since thine earthly eyes have closed on mine,
Our souls, dim-wandering in the hall of dreams,
Hold mystic converse on the life divine,
By the still music of immortal streams;
And oft thy spirit tells how souls, affied
By sovran destinies, no more can part—
How death and hell are powerless to divide;
Souls whose deep lives lie folded heart in heart.
And if, at times, some lingering shadow lies
Heavy upon thy path—some haunting dread—
Then do I point thee to the sacrifice
Of Him who did his holy life-blood shed
For thy soul's weal—the faith that doth approve
In death, the deathless power and divine life of Love.