Seek we these holy times to know.

And our return what still can stay?
Long have the best-loved slumbered;
Their grave bounds for us life's drear way,
Our souls with grief are cumbered.
All that we have to seek is gone,
The heart is full--the world is lone.

Unending, with mysterious flame,
O'er us sweet awe is creeping;
Methought from viewless distance came
An echo to our weeping;
The loved ones long for us on high,
And sent us back their pining sigh.

Below, to seek the tender bride,
To Jesus, whom we cherish!
Good cheer! lo, greys the even-tide, -
Love's agonies shall perish. -
A dream--our fetters melt, at rest
We sink upon the Father's breast.