"Over the River" (1859)
Woodland Warblings
Poetry by Miss Nance A. W. Priest
Music by Joseph Philbrick Webster, 1819-1875

Chicago, IL: H. M. Higgins, 117 Randolf Street
No plate number.
[Source: No. 74 from "Western Gems:
100 Songs Composed by J. P. Webster"]

1. 
Over the river they beckon to me--
Loved ones who’ve crossed to the further side;
The  gleam of their snowy robes I see,
But their voices are drowned in the rushing tide.

There’s one with ringlets of sunny gold,
And eyes the reflection of heavens own blue;
He cross’d in the twilight so gray and cold,
And the pale mist hid him from mortal view.

We saw not the angel that welcom’d him there,
The gates in the city we could not see;
Over the river over the river
My brother stands waiting to welcome me.

2. 
Over the river the boatman pale
Carried another-- the household pet;
Her brown curls waved in the gentle gale;
Darling Minnie! I see her yet.

She crossed on her bosom her dimpled hands,
And fearlessly enter’d the phantom bark;
We watched it glide from the silver sands,
And all our sunshine grew strangely dark.

We know she is safe on the further side;
Where all the ransomed and angels be;
Over the river the mystic river,
My childhood’s idol is waiting for me.

3.
For none return from those quiet shores,
Who cross, with the boatman cold and pale;
We hear the dip of the golden oars
And catch a gleam of the snowy sail.

And lo! they have pass’d from our yearning heart;
They cross the stream and are gone for aye;
We may not sunder the veil apart,
That hides from our vision the gates of day.

We only know that our barks no more
May sail with us over life’s stormy sea;
Yet somewhere I know on that unseen shore
They watch and beckon and wait for me.

4.
And I’ll sit and think when the sunset’s gold,
Is flushing the river and hill and shore,
I shall one day stand by the water cold,
And list for the sound of the boatman’s oar.

I shall watch for a gleam of the flapping sail;
I shall hear the boat as it nears the strand;
I shall pass from sight with the boatman pale,
To the pearllit shore of the spirit land;

I shall know the loved ones who’ve gone before,
And joyfully sweet will the meeting be;
When over the river the peaceful river,
The angel of death shall carry me.