Page:Roden Noel - A Little Child's Monument - 1881.pdf/119

 And while he dwelleth in high heaven, Under some sweet angel's care, He also sootheth our sad even, Ever radiantly fair.

Why seek the living among the dead? They are not here! alive, arisen, Only a ray of them hath fled; Angels deliver them from prison! Child Eric! when He saw thee bleed, Child Jesus came to call thee home; But while bereft of thee we roam, Thou art more near us, love, indeed, More near than in thine earlier state, Although we seem so desolate! The dead from our wan eyes depart, Only to nestle in our heart. Mary, weeping, sought the Lord In the grave, nor found Him there; Mary with her living Lord Was communing in her despair, Nor knew who communed with her there! We are surely travelling home O'er the weary waste of foam, Drawn by pure and tranquil eyes Of living Orbs within the skies, Who rising, we in them arise; For all are souls within a Soul,