O Death! thou utterest deeper speech,
A tenderer, truer tone,
Than all our languages can reach,
Though all were voiced in one.
Thy glance is deep, and, far beyond
All that our eyes do see,
Assures to fairest hopes and fond
Their immortality.
Sing, sing, the Immortals,
The Ancients of days,
Ever crowding the portals
Of Time’ s peopled ways;
These Babes ever stealing
Into Eden’ s glad feeling,
The fore-world revealing,
God’ s face ne’ er concealing.
Voyager across the seas,
In my arms thy form I press;
Come, my Baby, me to please,
Blue-eyed nurseling, motherless!
All is strange and beautiful,
Every sense finds glad surprise,
Life is lovely, wonderful,
Faces fair, and beaming eyes.
Safe, ye angels, keep this child,
Life-long guard her innocence,
Winsome ways, and temper mild;
Heaven, our home, be her defence!