Memories of the past come swelling
O’er the graves of bygone years;
Scenes of joy and sorrow telling,
Sun and shadow, smiles and tears.
Merry shouts of joy and gladness
Ring out from the shadowy past,
While the mournful tones of sadness
Wail like winter’s shivering blast.

Many a loved one fondly cher­ished,
Calmly in the churchyard sleeps;
Many an orange flower has per­ished,
Many a willow sadly weeps.
Many a voice has ceased its sing­ing,
But in brighter, fairer skies,
Where Hea­ven’s harmonies are ring­ing,
Joins that song that ne­ver dies.

Yet we feel that hovering near us,
Spirits of the sainted dead,
From the dim past come to cheer us,
With their guardian wings out­spread.
Thus do memories come press­ing,
On the track of bygone years:
And though sorrow came with bless­ing,
Smiles are glistening through the skies.

Bless to us past mercies given,
Bless to us this festal day,
Show us all the road to Hea­ven,
Lead us in the shining way.
Just beyond death’s narrow ri­ver,
Heav’n’s own glories on us shine;
Father! grant that there, for­ev­er,
We may sing of love di­vine.