To Her That Weeps Poem by James Ephraim McGirt

Oh, beloved wife of the dear departed,
To thee I sing: be not brok'n hearted;
The God that called thy loved one from thy side
Hath sent an angel o'er thy path to guide.

I know it's hard to give up one so dear,
To whom was trusted all thy love and care,
But death, my friend, is the common lot of all,
And all must answer freely to the call.

Ah, weep no more, thy loved one is at rest—
Expel the sorrow from thy aching breast;
Pray murmur not, it is our Father's will
And He in love and mercy 'll keep thee still.

Go forth, oh song, in strains both loud and clear,
And soothe her aching heart, dry every tear;
And with thy cloak of love securely fold,
Then pray that God her from all danger 'll hold.