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8 & 7s. M.

Briggs’ Coll.

Death of a Child.

Fare thee well, our fondly cherished!

Dear, dear blossom, fare thee well!

He who lent thee hath recalled thee,

Back with Him and His to dwell.

Like a sunbeam through our dwelling

Shone thy presence, bright and calm;

Thou didst add a zest to pleasure;

To our sorrows thou wast balm.

Yet while mourning, O our lost one,

Come no visions of despair!

Seated on thy tomb, Faith’s angel

Saith, thou art not, art not there.

Where, then, art thou? with the Saviour,

Blest, forever blest, to be;

’Mid the sinless little children

Who have heard his “Come to me.”

Passed the shades of death’s dark valley,

Thou art leaning on his breast,

Where the wicked may not enter,

And the weary are at rest.

Plead, that in a Father’s mercy

All our sins may be forgiven;

Angel! plead, that thou may’st greet us,

Ransomed, at the gates of heaven.

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