Classic Poem

An only child, the household pet and joy,
The idol of her home,
How can we say, 'twas well that she should die,
A bud forbade to bloom!

How, but with faith that He who sees the end,
From every opening hour,
Hath with the kindness of a loving Friend,
With wisdom as with power,

This sweet one gathered to the angel-band,
To sing forever there,
In the rich music of the better land,
Peaceful and blest as fair!

God gave his Only and his Well-beloved,
To die upon the cross:
Oh, let our spirits, every fear removed,
Count gain what earth calls loss!

Earth with its sorrows is no more to her,
Who sinless heights hath gained:
The bliss secured by Christ the Conqueror
She early hath attained.

And safe upon the glad and peaceful shore,
The well-beloved may rest:
God loves and guards our dear one evermore,
And yet will make us blest,

When we have followed him by faith a while,
With a re-union hour,
Where sin can nevermore our hearts beguile,
And death has lost his power.