Then with no throbs of fiery pain, No cold gradations of decay, Death broke at once the vital chain, And freed his soul the nearest way.
When the day of toil is done, When the race of life is run, Father, grant Thy wearied one Rest for evermore! When the heart by sorrow tried Feels at length its throbs subside, Bring us, where all tears are dried, Joy for evermore!
We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts not breaths; // In feelings, not in figures on a dial. // We should count time by heart throbs. He most lives // Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best.