Is it not sweet to think, hereafter,

  When the Spirit leaves this sphere.

Love, with deathless wing, shall waft her

  To those she long hath mourned for here?

Hearts from which 'twas death to sever.

  Eyes this world can ne'er restore,

There, as warm, as bright as ever,

  Shall meet us and be lost no more.

When wearily we wander, asking

  Of earth and heaven, where are they,

Beneath whose smile we once lay basking,

  Blest and thinking bliss would stay?

Hope still lifts her radiant finger

  Pointing to the eternal Home,

Upon whose portal yet they linger,

  Looking back for us to come.

Alas, alas—doth Hope deceive us?

  Shall friendship—love—shall all those ties

That bind a moment, and then leave us,

  Be found again where nothing dies?

Oh, if no other boon were given,

  To keep our hearts from wrong and stain,

Who would not try to win a Heaven

  Where all we love shall live again?