Still sacred is the memory
Of her whom all did love
From pain and sorrow she has gone
Into the realms above.

True death’s dark figure stands between,
Claims her we loved so dear.
But though by mortal eyes unseen
To his she still is near.

Should it be so that sad we mourn
And weep while well we know
That she is where the fount of bliss
Unceasingly doth flow?

No, rather let us think that still
Nor her for us is yearning
And that the flame of love which glowed
For us is brightly burning.

Another precious ransomed soul
Has crossed o’er deaths dark river,
And in the realms of light and joy
Will praise the Lord for ever.

Dear memories, dray those needless tears
Your loved ones safe at home,
With radiant born she waits you there,
And bid you all to come.