What sound of lof­ty praise is this,
Suffusing all the air?
What ago­ny, what un­told bliss,
Are meet­ing, striv­ing there?
Earth’s last great sha­dow—end­less life
On one same thresh­old stand;
Immortal peace—earth’s dark­est grief,
Both call from dist­ant land.

God owns me, Mo­ther! thus he spake,
What rest, what ra­di­ant joy!
Peace, stormy soul! For his dear sake,
Be still—God owns my boy.
A strange, cold sha­dow comes and goes
In those clear star-like eyes;
Life flick­ers now, it faint­ly glows,
A voice calls, Spir­it, rise!

Lift up your heads, ye gold­en gates—
Once more that sound of joy!
God owns me, Mo­ther: Je­sus waits
To wel­come home your boy.
Thy rest is glo­ri­ous, brave child!
Thy tri­umph ear­ly won!
Thy soul’s young tem­pest soon was stilled;
Thou’rt wait­ing—we will come.