True twin in heart of that pure soul,
True sharer in that saintly life,
Thy suffering now is past, and strife
Finds issue at the victor's goal.
Thine now the joy, the love, the hope
Of those who see with vision clear
The purpose working far and near,
The thousand paths that upward slope.
Through mists and darkness, weal and woe,
To where nought endeth incomplete,
Where all the loved and lost ones meet,
And love is more than we can know.
And, there the sister-spirits rest,
And tell of sorrows that have taught
The lesson, all so dearly bought,
In blessing others, to be blest, —
With words of hope, and peerless skill
To raise weak souls from their despair,
To breathe awhile serener air
Above the clouds of passing ill.
And he is there who taught our youth,
Husband and brother, child of light,
Whose faith victorious ends in sight,
Knowing, not guessing, now the truth.
And he, the prophet, priest, and sage,
Whose voice still rings in listening ears,
Who bade us cast away our fears,
Nor heed, though wild storms round us rage, —
He, too, is there; and can we dream
Their joy is other now than when
They dwelt among the sons of men,
As walking in the eternal gleam?
Are there no souls behind the veil
That need the help of guiding hand;
Weak hearts that cannot understand
Why earth's poor dreams of heaven must fail?
Are there no prison-doors to ope,
No lambs to gather in the fold,
No treasure-house of new and old,
To fill desire and answer hope?
We know not; but if life be there
The outcome and the crown of this,
What else can make their perfect bliss
Than in the Master's work to share?
Resting, but not in slumbrous ease,
Working, but not in wild unrest,
Still ever blessing, ever blest,
They see us, as the Father sees.
