If the shadows had not thickened as they clustered round my brow, Had I not turned from the altar, where I worshipped long ago, Perchance I might have reveled full too deep in human love, And forgotten God, my Maker, and my happy home above.

So ’tis well, and now I’m going to join that spirit band, With their never-ceasing music, making glad that starry land; And I’m glad too, for I’m weary, and would rest me from my woe⁠— Fain would land my stricken spirit on the banks of “Evermore.”

And O! my dearly loved one, when sorrows round thee press, Hurling each deadly missile on thy pure and youthful breast⁠— Then think upon thy dear one, O! may ne’er thy footsteps rove! But meet me, surely meet me, in that happy home above.