The Soul Is Victor O’er the Grave

The Soul is Victor O'er the Grave Here softly tread among these graves, Here softly speak above the dead, While silently the willow waves Its drooping branches overhead, And solemn quietness abounds Within the group of sacred mounds, — While loved ones there Our loved ones wait, Beyond, in Paradise await. 'Tis dust to dust for all our race, And spirit back to God who gave; The dust alone hath here a place, — The soul is victor o'er the grave ! With flowers we decorate each tomb ; We know that they must love the flowers, — Our yearly gift of bud and bloom. Perhaps they meet us in these hours When love and friendship here are blest, In memory of those at rest, Where loved ones there Our loved ones wait, Beyond, in Paradise await! One family, yet tarrying here, Are we who think of loved ones gone. That other family so dear Await us as we're passing on! Their virtues let us all commend, — Their love and ours shall never end, — Where loved ones there, Our loved ones wait, Beyond, in Paradise await! 'Tis dust to dust for all our race, And spirit back to God who gave; The dust alone hath here a place, — The soul is victor o'er the grave ! Joseph Longking Townsend