The Mourner Comforted.
1 O, weep not for the joys that fade
Like evening lights away,
For hopes that, like the stars decayed,
Have left thy mortal day;
The clouds of sorrow will depart,
And brilliant skies be given;
For bliss awaits the holy heart,
Amid the bowers of heaven.
2 O weep not for the friends that pass
Into the lonely grave,
As breezes sweep the withered grass
Along the restless wave;
For though thy pleasures may depart,
And mournful days be given;
Yet bliss awaits the holy heart,
When friends rejoin in heaven.