In Bereavement

Lift up thine eyes, afflicted soul!
From earth uplift thine eyes,
Though dark the shades of evening roll,
And daylight beauty dies;
One sun is set,--a thousand more
Their rounds of glory run,
Where science leads thee to explore
In every star a sun.

Thus, when some long-loved comfort ends,
And frailty would despair,
Faith to the heaven of heavens ascends,
And meets ten thousand there.
First faint and small, then clear and bright,
They gladden all the gloom,
As stars, that seem but points of light,
The rank of suns assume.