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THE grave is Heaven’s gate, they say;
And when dear Annie passed away,
One calm June morning,
I saw upon the heavenly stairs,
A band of angels, unawares,
Her path adorning.

The grave is Heaven’s gate, they say;
And when dear Annie passed away,
A music flowing
Filled my sad soul with love and light,
That made me seem, by day and night,
To Heaven going.

The grave is Heaven’s gate, they say;
And when dear Annie passed away,
A saintly whiteness
O’erspread the beauty of her face,
And filled it with the tender grace
Of angel brightness.

The grave is Heaven’s gate, they say;
And when dear Annie passed away,
An angel splendid
Cast his large glories to the ground,
While waves of throbbing music-sound
In sweetness blended.

The grave is Heaven’s gate, they say;
And when dear Annie passed away,
In holy sweetness–
When life’s sad dream with her was o’er,
Her white soul stood at Heaven’s door,
In its completeness.