B ENEATH our feet and o'er our head Is equal warning given; Beneath us lie the countless dead, Above us is the Heaven! Their names are graven on the stone, Their bones are in the clay; And ere another day is gone, Death rides on every passing breeze, Each season has its own disease, Its peril every hour! Our eyes have seen the rosy light Our eyes have seen the steps of age Halt feebly towards the tomb, And yet shall earth our hearts engage, And dreams of days to come? Turn, mortal, turn! thy danger know; Turn, Christian, turn! thy soul apply To truths divinely given; The bones that underneath thee lie Shall live for Hell or Heaven! "COME OVER AND HELP US!" FROM Greenland's icy mountains, They call us to deliver Their land from error's chain. What though the spicy breezes |