On the Death of a Believer

I

In vain our fancy strives to paint
The moment after death,
The glories that surround the saints
When yielding up their breath.

II

One gentle sigh their fetters breaks;
We scarce can say, “They’re gone!”
Before the willing spirit takes
Her mansion near the throne.

III

Faith strives, but all its efforts fail
To trace her in her flight;
No eye can pierce within the veil
Which hides that world of light

IV

Thus much (and this is all) we know,
They are completely bless’d⁠—
Have done with sin and care and woe,
And with their Saviour rest.

V

On harps of gold they praise his name,
His face they always view;
Then let us foll’wers be of them,
That we may praise him too.

VI

Their faith and patience, love and zeal,
Should make their mem’ry dear;
And, Lord, do thou the pray’rs fulfill
They offer’d for us here.

VII

While they have gain’d we losers are,
We miss them day by day:
But thou canst every breach repair,
And wipe our tears away.

VIII

We pray, as in Elisha’s case,
When great Elijah went⁠—
May double portions of thy grace
To us who stay be sent.