Yet thou art eager as before.

Once more death bends the fatal bow,--
Again he seeks a shining mark;
Another blooming son lies low,--
Death steals away the vital spark.

Though far from home and those dear friends
Which soothe his grief and crown his bliss,
His heavenly Father comfort sends,--
The Holy Spirit whispers peace.

He seeks the dear paternal hearth,
To die by his fond parent's side;
To him the dearest friends on earth,
Who with a smile each tear would hide.

A few short weeks he lingered there,
While heav'nly peace reigned in his breast;
He cries, my friends, oh now prepare
To meet where sorrows ne'er molest.

Though earthly friends are dear to me,
I feel them twining round my heart,
A friend in heaven, by faith, I see,
Who bids my joyful soul depart.

Dear mourning friends, now dry your tears;
Bid ev'ry murm'ring thought be still;
My mind is free from doubts and fears,--