Death and the tomb! our hearts rebel,
And wonder why such things should be;
Great God, who doeth all things well,
We leave these mysteries with Thee!

Thou knowest why, and we shall know
When raised in triumph from the grave,
Redeemed from death, and sin, and woe,
Through Him who hath the power to save.




THE DYING WARRIOR.


A warrior lay, with a heaving breast,
On the field of the dying and dead;
His cheek was pale and his lips compressed,
And the fading light from the distant west
Shone o'er his gory bed.

The night came on, and the moon arose
With her soft and tremulous glow;
She shed her light o'er friends and o'er foes,
All sleeping together in dull repose
On the battle-field below.

The warrior gazed with a mournful sigh
On the blue and the star-spangled dome;