WHERE ARE YOU SLEEPING TO-NIGHT, MY LAD? Where are you sleeping to-night, My Lad, The last we heard you were up at the front, Ay!-that was a week ago, Dear Lad, When a second's enough, in the thick of the strife, Oh, a week is long when so little's enough It may be that while we named your name The bullet sped and the quick end came,And the rest we shall never know. But this we know, Dear Lad,—all's well WHERE ARE YOU SLEEPING TO-NIGHT, MY And whether he live, or whether he die, And to God we can leave the rest. So wherever you're sleeping to-night, Dear Lad, This one thing we do know, When "Last Post" sounds, and He makes His rounds, Not one of you all will be out of bounds, BE QUIET! Soul, dost thou fear Thou canst not contrive them. 'Tis He that shall give them; Thou may'st not outlive them. With fear of the sorrow, Come to-morrow? TO YOU WHO HAVE LOST I know! I know! The ceaseless ache, the emptiness, the woe,- The strength that sinks beneath so sore a cross. "-Heedless and careless, still the world wags on, And leaves me broken... Oh, my son! my son!" Yet-think of this! Yea, rather think on this! He died as few men get the chance to die,- He died the noblest death a man may die, "He died unnoticed in the muddy trench." Nay,-God was with him, and he did not blench; Filled him with holy fires that nought could quench, TO YOU WHO HAVE LOST (continued) And when He saw his work below was done, Are worthy of My larger liberties,” -Then drew him with the hand of welcoming grace, And, side by side, they climbed the heavenly ways. |