Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TO THE MEMORY OF A FRIEND WHO DIED ON SABBATH MORNING, by ELIZABETH BOGART



Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

Rhyming Dictionary Search
TO THE MEMORY OF A FRIEND WHO DIED ON SABBATH MORNING, by            
First Line: Oh, it was meet, beloved friend!
Last Line: Oh, may I go to thee!
Alternate Author Name(s): Estelle


OH, it was meet, beloved friend!
That on the Sabbath morn,
Thy soul should wing its flight to heaven,
On angel pinions borne.
And brightly broke that Sabbath day
Upon thy raptured sight,
In mansions of eternal bliss,
And everlasting light.

And in that City of the Blest,
Where thou hast found a home,
Sorrow and sickness are unknown,
And Death shall never come.
"And there shall be no night," nor need
Of sun or moon to shine;
The glory of the Lord shall fill
The place with rays divine.

Why should we weep, beloved friend!
That thou hast entered now
The gates of pearl, and hast received
The crown upon thy brow --
The glorious "crown of righteousness" --
Ere yet the years drew near,
In which thy weary heart should feel
Thou hadst no pleasure here.

Thy spirit left this dying world,
While Nature's fading bloom
And falling leaves, spoke mournfully
Of sadness and the tomb.
But ah, already has the Spring,
With flowers and beauty rife,
Returned to thee -- and thou hast drunk
The crystal stream of life.

Yet must I weep, my much loved-friend!
In selfish grief, for thee;
The haunts where we together strayed,
Are lonely now to me.
Earth's bright and beauteous scenes no more
Could former joys impart,
Without thy pleasant voice and smile,
Companion of my heart!

Nor I alone shall mourn thy loss;
The suffering, sick, and poor,
Will miss the friend who never turned
Unkindly from their door.
Oh, thou hast sought the bed of pain,
To comfort the distressed;
And many such will join thy friends,
To call thy memory blessed.

Thy works shall praise thee, more than words,
For feeble is the lyre,
And cold the language seems to flow,
Though burning thoughts inspire.
Farewell, farewell! -- I know that thou
Shalt ne'er return to me;
My earthly pilgrimage fulfill'd,
Oh, may I go to thee!





Other Poems of Interest...



Home: PoetryExplorer.net