The lilies on their grave have died?
The palms they bear can never fade
Nor wither--on the other side.

May we not dream they feel with us
When we by various ills are tried,
That when we triumph over sin,
They triumph too--the other side?

May we not hope that more and more
The day for which we long have sighed
They long for too--that we with them
May praise the Lamb--the other side?

And when we reach fair Sion's hill,
Where angel hosts in bliss abide,
Shall we not clasp the hands of those
Whom once we lost--the other side?

Then ever with them we shall dwell
By grief untouched, by sin untried,
And join with them in that sweet song
That never ends--the other side.

But friendship there shall purer be,
No love betrayed, no vows denied;
Nor pain nor death shall part us more
From those we love--the other side!