78
poems by mary baker eddy
How have our honored dead fought on in gloom!
Peace her white wings will spread over their tomb;
Why waited their reward, triumph and rest,
Till molds the hero form? Thou knowest best!
Peace her white wings will spread over their tomb;
Why waited their reward, triumph and rest,
Till molds the hero form? Thou knowest best!
Shades of our heroes! the Union now is one,
The star whose destiny none may outrun;
Tears of the bleeding slave poured on her breast,
When to be wiped away, Thou knowest best!
The star whose destiny none may outrun;
Tears of the bleeding slave poured on her breast,
When to be wiped away, Thou knowest best!
Thou who in the Christ hallowed its grief,—
O meekest of mourners, while yet the chief,—
Give to the pleading hearts comfort and rest,
In that benediction which knoweth best!
O meekest of mourners, while yet the chief,—
Give to the pleading hearts comfort and rest,
In that benediction which knoweth best!
Lynn, Mass., December 7, 1865.
