He is not Dead

Weep not! He is not dead—
'Though sepulchered, the tenement of clay,
The severance of the silver chord
Means but new birth to live alway.

Decrepit, so made by fleeting years,
Fatigued, with faltering step
He climbed life's weary way,
Beyond the enshrouding mists
His soul cleaves the vaulted skies,
Merged in the realm of supernal day.

The great white throne embellished with
The choiring throngs resounding
With the rhythm of spheres,
Welcomed this soul that took it's flight
From earth 'mid grief and falling tears.

Indelibly stamped upon life's way
He left his impress for his race to live
When stars grown ancient dismissed from vaulted skies
With fulgent suns sink no more to rise.

Gilded upon the heavenly scroll,
Fulgent as the spheres that roll
Onward and onward through space,
His sacred name there finds its place.

The shedding of Christ's blood on Calvary
Was for such as he, who lived the life
The great tribunal approbates, that swings awide
The golden gates.