Classic Poem

Asleep! O precious sleep of rest,
That calms at last the sick one's breast
Long racked with pain and care;
Now bear her softly to her bed, —
To the low pillow where, she said,
She longed to lay her weary head,
And lay her gently there.

You need not fear to wake her now,
Or place again upon her brow
The sufferer's crown of pain:
For now she smiles while others weep;
Such slumbers holy angels keep;
No noises ever wake such sleep;
She will not wake again .

O thanks! she will not wake to know
Again the pangs of mortal woe!
Woe's work in her is done, —
The racking pain, the midnight groan,
The restless sleep, the weary moan,
And praying that the night be gone,
And for the morning sun.

In the low grave for her that waits
Her flesh shall rest in hope; through gates
Celestial, far above,
Her soul has passed and found its rest,
As bird escaped flies to its nest.
She sings now on her Saviour's breast
A ceaseless song of love.