Time's tide of change and uproar Breaks above thy head Feet of restless millions O'er thy chambers tread. Earthquakes, whirlwinds, tempests, Tear the quivering ground; Voices, trumpets, thunders, Fill the air around. Brethren, arise, Let us go hence! Death and the grave are here, The sick-bed and the bier. The children of the tomb May love this kindred gloom; 98 ARISE AND DEPART. But we, the deathless band, Must see the deathless land. The immortal dwell above. Brethren, arise, Let us go hence! For we are weary here. The sorrow ever nigh, The tumult near and far, The universal war, The sounds that never cease, These are our weariness! Brethren, arise, Let us go hence! This is not our abode; Too far, too far from God! |