And all wept and bewailed her: but He said, weep not; she is not <br />dead, but sleepeth. <br /> <br />-Luke 8:52. <br /> <br />Oh true, 'she is not dead, but sleepeth-' <br />Her dust alone is here; <br />The spirit pure that Heavenward leapeth, <br />Hath gone to bliss fore'er. <br /> <br />'Twas but a fragile flower that lent <br />Its sweets to earth a day; <br />From Heaven's parterre 'twas kindly sent, <br />But 'twas not here to stay. <br /> <br />Weep not, fond mother, that lost one; <br />'Tis clasped in angel's arms- <br />From earth's dread trials passed and gone, <br />'Tis decked in seraph's charms. <br /> <br />See how it beckons thee to come, <br />And taste its rapture there;- <br />No longer linger o'er that tomb- <br />To join it let's prepare.<br /><br />Zebulon Rudulph<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/thoughts-on-the-death-of-my-grandchild-fanny/
