Friend after friend departs;

Who hath not lost a friend?

There is no union here of hearts,

That finds not here an end?

Were this frail world our only rest,

Living or dying, none were blest.

2 Beyond the flight of time,

Beyond this vale of death,

There surely is some blesséd clime,

Where life is not a breath,

Nor life’s affections transient fire,

Whose sparks fly upward to expire,

3 There is a world above,

Where parting is unknown;

A whole eternity of love,

Formed for the good alone;

And faith beholds the dying here

Translated to that happier sphere.

4 Thus star by star declines,

Till all are passed away,

As morning high and higher shines

To pure and perfect day;

Nor sink those stars in empty night;

They hide themselves in heaven’s own light.