WEEP not for her, the dear lamb we have folded,
Safe from the serpent, secure from the bear;
Gone to the source, where her being was moulded,
She recks not of sorrow, and dreams not of care.
Through the green pastures, with skies ever Vernal,
By the still waters, her footsteps now rove;
Led by the Shepherd, whose name is Eternal,
Her loveliness lives in the light of His love.
Weep not for her, the dear lamb we have folded,
Though sadly we miss her, from out our fond arms;
Just when her young life had sweetly unfolded,
And ours seemed renewed, in the light of her charms,
Here, for a while she has left us behind her,
To wander and wait, on life's desolate shore;
There, through the Cross, we shall certainly find her,
And with her, the lambling we folded before.