When summer eve or winter day is dying,
The winds seem ever sighing songs of woe!

Oh! cherished spot! beloved beyond all measure,
Your holy peace that brings a balm so blest!
When turning from the world, in grief or pleasure,
I seek your calm, and hunger for your rest!

How feeble, then, seem all the ties that bound me
To this world's ways, that held such charms for me
And heaven-born dreams and holy thoughts surround me
Until from earth's vain things my soul is free!

Then do I feel this wound of Mercy's giving
Draws all my hopes from earth to holier love.
An e'en while here, sin-stained and lonely living,
My heart is with my treasure fixed above!

Still, looking upward to the Heavenly Mansion,
Where he abides--where we shall meet him there--
Where soul with soul shall blend in the expansion
Of that world's higher life, immortal, fair!

That land of beauty, where the Lamb in glory
Gathers His own to perfect bliss and peace,
Where all the ransomed sing Redemption's story
In joys celestial that can never cease.

Thrice happy lot was thine, oh, blessed spirit!
So early called from this dark vale of woe--