She is gone!   she is gone!  A God of love
Has called her up to His side above;

She is gone!   she is gone!  A God of love
Has called her up to His side above;
Has gathered the flower in all its prime,
And bade it bloom in a brighter clime;
Has filled her hand with a heavenly lyre,
And found her a place in His angel choir.

She is gone!  she is gone to a land of light,
Where the glorious day ne'er sinks in night:
Where a cloud ne'er comes across the sky;
Where the tears are wiped from every eye;
Where all is holiness, love, and bliss,
And none regret such a world as this.

She is gone! she is gone!  She passed away
Like the dying close of a summer day:
A dawn of glory around her shone,
A light shot down from the Heavenly Throne:
The last of her breath in song was spent,
And forth in a smile her spirit went.

She is gone! she is gone to her high reward,
To bask in the looks of her wished-for Lord.
She gained one peep through the golden gate;
She saw the Seraphim for her wait;
And sprang from sorrow and sin away
To dwell in the light of eternal day.

She is gone! she is gone!  And who would chain
Her soul to a world like ours again?
But oh, the blank, the desolate void,
In hearts that her converse here enjoyed!
They long from all upon earth to sever,
And be with their loved and lost for ever.

She is gone! she is gone but a while before
She waits for them at the heavenly door:
They hear her calling them up on high;
They feel her drawing them on to the sky;
And pray, at their parting hour to be
As ripe, as ready, as blessed as she.

~ Henry Francis Lyte

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