Mortal, if thou art beloved

MORTAL, if thou art beloved, 
Life's offences are removed : 
All the fateful things that checkt thee, 
Hearten, hallow, and protect thee. 
Grow'st thou mellow ? What is age ? 
Tinct on life's illumined page, 
Where the purple letters glow 
Deeper, painted long ago. 
What is sorrow ? Comfort's prime, 
Love's choice Indian summer-clime. 
Sickness ? Thou wilt pray it worse 
For so blessed, balmy nurse. 
And for death ? When thou art dying 
'Twill be love beside thee lying. 
Death is lonesome ? Oh, how brave 
Shows the foot-frequented grave ! 
Heaven itself is but the casket 
For Love's treasure, ere he ask it. 
Ere with burning heart he follow, 
Piercing through corruption's hollow. 
If thou art beloved, oh then 
Fear no grief of mortal men !