Cease , O mourner! cease your tears,
Lift your sorrow-burdened eyes.
Through the clouds the blue appears,
Storms have cleared the April skies.
Ended is the winter's strife,
Stand the fields in living green;
Death is swallowed up in life;
Faith is justified, serene.

Go not to the grave to sigh,
'Tis not there your treasure lies;
Unseen, yet most closely nigh,
Is the loving heart you prize.
Graves are but the body's bed,
Soul the grave could never hold;
Living seek not 'mid the dead;
Hearts that love can ne'er grow cold.

Lift your thoughts to higher spheres,
There the radiant one behold
Free from grief, save for your tears,
Joyous as in days of old.
There in life's untiring round
Of willing service gently led,
The dead are living, the lost found,
And the sorrowing comforted.

Faith's strong hand the veil thus parts,
Thus the light of life shines through;
Near unto your hearts of hearts
Is the loved, still loving you.
Ended be your mourning hours,
Learn the lesson taught of old
By the very birds and flowers, —
Trust in God, and be consoled.