AS the green waves bear on their crest
The foam, and ever shoreward come,
So, moving surely to our rest,
Slowly we all like bits of foam
Come drifting home.

He whom we loved has reached the shore
In peace; and all the billows vast -
The stormy waves of life that bore
Him on - have ceased their strife at last.
The storm is past !

We thought, because the waves of life
Were high and rough, the end would be
'Mid scenes of tumult and of strife,
As mighty billows of the sea
Break loud and free.

But there was calm instead! The waves
Of life were stilled, and up the strand
Slipped noiselessly, as ocean laves
In quietness the silver sand,
An ending grand !

How sweet to know his weary life
At last to rest and quiet wore !
Oh, may we all, through peace or strife,
Be gathered on that silver shore
For evermore !