And never more our steps shall roam,
To say with joy, our work is done,
And we are going home.
How pleasant 'tis, our sorrows past,
With better, brighter worlds in view,
To give one parting look, the last.
And say with joy, Adieu!
The sting of death hath lost its power
To him who lives and never dies;
And death is the transition hour
Which leads him to the skies.
Oh live, oh reign, departing one!
Though gone from earth, to thee 'tis given,
With trials past, and victory won.
To gain the life of heaven.
— Christ in the Soul (1872) LXXVIII.
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