1 Though sorrow's night and danger's path,
Amid the deep'ning gloom,
We soldiers of an injured King
Are marching to the tomb.
2 There, when the turmoil is no more,
And all our powers decay,
Our cold remains in solitude
Shall sleep the years away.
3 Our labors done, securely laid
In this our last retreat,
Unheeded o'er our silent dust
The storms of life shall beat.
4 Yet not thus lifeless, thus inane,
The vital spark shall lie,
For o'er life's wreck that spark shall rise
To seek its kindred sky.
5 These ashes too, this little dust,
Our Father's care shall keep,
Till the last angel rise, and break
The long and dreary sleep.
6 Then love's soft dew o'er every eye
Shall shed its mildest rays,
And the long silent dust shall burst
With shouts of endless praise.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | Through sorrow's night and danger's path |
Meter: | C. M. |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1870 |
Topic: | Immortality of the soul; Resurrection: of Men |
Notes: | Author from index: H. K. White |