On the Death of a Child, Part 4

Why should our hearts for ever bleed,
Why should we still as hopeless mourn r
The child is safe! the child is dead!
And never shall to us return:
But we to him shall soon arise.
And clasp the saint in paradise.
Who weeping build our infant's tomb,
With joy we hasten to our own:
That happiest day will quickly come,
When we shall lay our burden down,
When loosed from earth our souls shall soar,
And find, whom we shall lose no more.

No human heart can e'er conceive
The transports of our meeting there,
Where pure departed spirits live,
Where one we fondly deem'd our heir,
To full angelic stature grown.
Inherits an immortal crown.

Arrived above, the stranger stands,
Encompass'd with acclaiming choirs:

He hears, and waves his plausive hands,
Transported with the harpers' lyres
Expands his tuneful soul to prove
The' harmonious powers of heavenly love.

And can we wish him doom'd again
To childish ignorance and fears,
Obnoxious to disease and pain,
Imprison'd in our vale of tears.
Exposed to all we dread beneath.
Passion, and sin, and second death?

Ah, no! we would not have him back,
But soon ourselves to him remove.

While meet his glory to partake,
And perfected in patient love,
We see with ravish'd hearts and eyes
The loss which brought us to the skies.