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[247] But keep the smile upon thy lip,
     The trust upon thy brow;
Since for the dear one God hath called
     We have an angel now.

Our mother from the fields of heaven
     Shall still her ear incline;
Nor need we fear her human love
     Is less for love divine.

The songs are sweet they sing beneath
     The trees of life so fair,
But sweetest of the songs of heaven
     Shall be her children's prayer.

Then, darling, rest upon my breast,
     And teach my heart to lean
With thy sweet trust upon the arm
     Which folds us both unseen!


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1858 AD (1)
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