More lovely is this world for partings.
Sweet rain passing sweetens sun;
Lovelier day for dawn remembered;
Lovelier dawn for night undone.
To love no lovely thing can end--
Sorrows but shape a precious stone--
For all things lovely find their friend
In her who is their Lord's alone.
Pain was His; how then can sorrow
Foe or aught but blessing be?
Truer the words: "See how all things
Rejoice thee, who rejoicest Me."
But O! Lord lovely, pain is passing,
This grief goes to meet its death.
Cling we to it, weary, weeping,
Thinking thus to stay Thy breath?
Where can friendship go, when folly
Turns our tears to shards of stone?
Where can folly go, Thou knowest,
Thou who claim us for Thine own.
Secret tears in vaults of silence
Ointment are to wash Thy feet.
She who sinned Thy love remembers,
Renders homage salt and sweet.
Friendship goes, but Thy love lasting
Draws us on to wealth untold,
Drops of bitter brine now turning
In Thy light, to purest gold.
Thou art Friend, and Love, and Father;
Tastes we know of these things here,
Faltering in the dusk and gloaming,
Friendship ever marred by fear.
Sun has set, and Son is rising,
And the dead Lord whispers: "Come!
All once lost by thy mistake
My love has stored for thee at home."