When The Good Man Yields His Breath

Eagle Of Flowers! I See Thee Stand, And On The Sun's Noon-glory Gaze; With Eye Like His, Thy Lids Expand, And Fringe Their Disk With Golden Rays: Though Fix'd On Earth, In Darkness Rooted There, Light Is Thy Element, Thy Dwelling Air, Thy Prospect Heaven.

Blue Thou Art, Intensely Blue; Flower, Whence Came Thy Dazzling Hue?

Two Roses On One Slender Spray In Sweet Communion Grew, Together Hailed The Morning Ray And Drank The Evening Dew.

When To The Cross I Turn My Eyes,and Rest On Calvary,o Lamb Of God, My Sacrifice,i Must Remember Thee.

The Dead Are Like The Stars By Day; Withdrawn From Mortal Eye, But Not Extinct, They Hold Their Way In Glory Through The Sky.