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A Voice From the Dead

(To Miss Annie W. Smith, Prestwick)
On the death of her Sister

Weep not for me, Oh! check the tear,
That glistens in affection's eyes
'Tis vain to mourn o'er Death's cold bier,
We live to hope -- we're born to die.

What would an ocean's tears avail?
Can Grief reanimate the frame,
That sojourn'd once in Life's lone vale?
Remembrance will enshrine the name;

But God's eternal fiat pass'd,
The Body, grave-bound, waits its doom,
Till the reviving Trump at last
Arouse the Sleepers from the tomb.

Released from Death's enthralling chain,
Triumphant there, to Life, we'll rise,
And meet, redeem'd from Woe and Pain
Our fellow kindred in the skies.

Together thus we'll wing our way,
To the celestial bless'd abode,
And there, seraphic sing for aye,
Hosanna, to our Saviour God.

Published: 26-Apr-2004