Father,

'Tis well he will suffer no more

In the loved land of the blessed,

Pain fled as he tread heaven's shore;

It left him at peace and at rest.

We think of him in silence,

His name we often recall

There is nothing left to answer

Just his picture hung on the wall.

The blow was great, the shock severe,

We little thought the end was near,

And only those who have lost can tell

The pain of parting without  farewell.

More each day we miss you father

Friends may think the wound is healed,

But they little know the sorrow

That lies within our heart concealed.

Some day we hope to meet you,

Some day we know not when,

To clasp your hand in the better land,

Never to part again.

Gloria Syvret