Oh!

 Thou that didst die for love of me.

 And I live to tell thee.

 Sweet my life has been this day.

 How shall I love thee better after death?

 Thy spirit is in mine; oh!

 It was in my heart to bless thee then,

 But I could not speak so sweet a tongue,

 To sing thy praises in thy absence strong.

​

 My soul hath wings that thou shalt see,

 To follow where I have flown.

 My heart and lips are one throne,

 And they will be still when my life is o'er,

 As we two were by the grave of love.

 What time our lives shall end on earth,

 We two shall meet and part no more, enough!

 The grave hath no victory but death;

 Where no man hath gone before.

 Our lips will kiss again, amongst the final door,

 Before I close my eyes, and implore,

 Or I'll find thee, in heaven above.

 If I am to dream in sleep of thee, of love,

 I know not whether 'twill be a sin or not.

 If I must dream on, I would rather dream of a cot.

 In the dreams of the soul, what matter is death?

 No thought nor feeling can I dread a plot thread rot,

 If thou art with me in those strange lands with a baby in your hands.

​

 O night, and night alone,

 What is the power of evil to avail?

 It cannot prevail, nor can it hold,

 When my spirit walks beyond the veil.

 And in my mind I will ever feel,

 The sweet peace of heaven's glory land bold.

 And I am content to wait alone,

 Where the winds can whisper in the trees, what was foretold.