We are all here,
Father, mother,
Sister, brother,
All who hold each other dear.
Each chair is filled; we’re all at home!
To-night let no cold stranger come.
It is not often thus around
Our old familiar hearth we’re found.
Bless, then, the meeting and the spot;
For once be every care forgot;
Let gentle peace assert her power,
And kind affection rule the hour.
We’re all – all here!

We’re not all here!
Some are away, - the dead ones dear,
Who thronged with us this ancient hearth,
And gave the hour to guileless mirth.
Fate, with a stern, relentless hand,
Looked in, and thinned our little band;
Some like a night-flash passed away,
And some sank lingering day by day;
The quiet graveyard, - some lie there, -
And cruel ocean has his share.
We’re not all here.

We are all here!
Even they, - the dead, - though dead, so dear, -
Fond memory, to her duty true,
Brings back their faded forms to view.
How lifelike. Through the mist of years,
Each well-remembered face appears.
We see them, as in times long past;
From each to each kind looks are cast
We hear their words, their smiles behold;
They’re round us as they were of old.
We are all here.

We are all here,
Father, mother,
Sister, brother,
You that I love with love so dear.
This may not long of us be said;
Soon must we join the gathered dead,
And by the hearth we not sit round
Some other circle will be found.
O, then, that wisdom may we know,
Which yields a life of peace below;
So, in the world to follow this,
May each repeat in words of bliss,
We’re all – all here!

CHARLES SPRAGUE