by John Moultrie
Sweet Babe, from griefs and dangers
Rest here for ever free;
We leave thy dust with strangers,
But oh, we leave not Thee.
Thy mortal sweetness, smitten
To scourge our souls for sin,
Is on our memory written,
And treasured deep therein;
While that which is immortal
Fond Hope doth still retain,
And saith "At heaven's bright portal
Ye all shall meet again."
Last updated January 14, 2019