Verse 1
Dead! Dead! The child I lov’d so well!
Transported to the world above!
I need no more my heart conceal:
I never dar’d indulge my love:
But may I not indulge my grief,
And seek in tears a sad relief?

Verse 2
Mine earthly happiness is fled,
His mother’s joy, his father’s hope,
O had I dy’d in Isaac’s stead!
He should have liv’d, my age’s prop,
He should have clos’d his father’s eyes,
And follow’d me to paradise.

Verse 3
But hath not heaven, who first bestow’d,
A right to take his gifts away?
I bow me to the sovereign God,
Who snatch’d him from the evil day!
Yet nature will repeat her moan,
And fondly cry, “My son, my son!”

Verse 4
Turn from him, turn, officious thought!
Officious thought presents again
The thousand little acts he wrought,
Which wound my heart with soothing pain:
His looks, his winning gestures rise,
His waving hands, and laughing eyes!

Verse 5
Those waving hands no more shall move,
Those laughing eyes shall smile no more:
He cannot now engage our love,
With sweet insinuating power
Our weak unguarded hearts insnare,
And rival his Creator there.

Verse 6
From us, as we from him, secure,
Caught to his heavenly Father’s breast,
He waits, till we the bliss insure,
From all these stormy sorrows rest,
And see him with our angel stand,
To waft, and welcome us to land.