Changhts,

AT MY BROTHER'S FUNERAL.

O, weep not for the happy Christian dead!
Lament not that his day of mourning's fled;
Sin, dust, disease, no longer chain his soul,-
A victor over Death at Glory's goal!
Why should I weep my Brother's liberty,
His triumph over Death-his victory?
Death conquer'd, is his triumph, not his foe-
Gives worlds of pleasures for this one of wo.
Am I in tears because my Brother's free-
Free from all Earthly ills that compass me?
Do I lament that he laments no more?
That sore Affliction's living reign is o'er?
That all things are his own that soul can love—
Eternal-crown'd with Paradise above?
Doth his rejoicing ope my weeping eyes?
Why weep that Angels hail him in the skies?
Why weep that he hath gain'd Eternal-shore-
Eternal-lifed with pleasures evermore?

What, weep! that he is number'd with the Bless'd-
Retir'd from toil, and gone to endless rest,-
Hath chang'd his night-of-Earth for Heaven-of-day—
"T is all fell discord in a Seraph's lay!

(61)

(

O! why these tears of anguish and remorse
When Wisdom, Virtue cry-' Rejoice—rejoice!'

Let Grief and Anguish pour their floods of tears
O'er Sin and Folly's hope-forsaken biers;
Ay, Mourning Comfortless low-bend her o'er
Crime-living, or Sin's-dead, and ever pour
The gall of Spirit as her red eyes roll
Heart-agony death-mingled with the soul!
True Lamentation's groans aloud declare:
Tears for the lost abandon'd to Despair;
Tear-showers of spirit rain from Sorrow's eye
O'er Hope's abandon'd-black Iniquity;

For living Crime, heart-tears of blood are due,
But-happy Christian! not one tear for you.'
Tears for a Saint, that his affliction's o'er!
Lament that Heaven hath gain'd an Angel more!
What! sunk to night of grief, that he is free,
Thrice happy in a bless'd Eternity!

Heart full of sorrow that his sorrow's o'er!
Weep dolorous because he weeps no more!
Tears for the Saint! Lamenting comfortless
That he 's with God-rejoicing with the Bless'd!
Hah-TEARS! and not ecstatic joys of soul
That he hath gone where ceaseless raptures roll!
What-WEEP! that he's from sin, death, hell, all-free-
Tear-drops on rose of Immortality!

What-MOURN! while Holy Writ―(Heaven's trumpet voice!)

Thunders for Christians all:-"REJOICE! REJOICE!"

The Crucifixion.

SUPPOSED TO BE WRITTEN BY AN EYE-WITNESS.

PART I.

When flaxen locks curled o'er my youthful brow,

And I sat playing with my infant joys,

My Mother caught me in her hasty arms
And mingled with a-Crowd!

Joy sat sublim'd

In every look, and Victory on each lip;
Ah, smiles! ah, joys! how soon to fade and die!
And dying-leave the sting of death behind!

'Tis victory weak that mocks its foe's last groan;
'Tis fiendish joy that laughs at dying sighs-
Infernal smile that smiles on Agony.

Accurs'd the heart that doth not sorrow feel
When soul bids clay farewell with parting pang;
Accurs'd the hand that would not turn aside
The dart of death from penitential tears;
Accurs'd the eye that fondly loves to see
The tooth of fell Disease in sunder gnaw

(63)

The soul and body of its enemy;

Accurs'd the God-defying wretch that mocks

While breaking heart strings fluttering murmur

"death!

That monster curs'd, who loves, or joys to see
Fell Death astride the pillow of his foe

With pangs that break frail Nature utterly.

That Crowd's great joy was fiendishness like this!
Joy sat sublim'd and climax'd on her soul,
And smiles of triumph blossom'd on her cheek:-
That Crowd's heart-love was cruelty and blood,
The sweetest music to her dragon-ear,

And bath'd her soul in new delight and bliss!
The scene on which her eye long loved to dwell!
A field from which her hand reap'd richest fruits!
Garden replete with prospect beautiful

Of fruits and flowers of every kind and hue

That towering thought could think, or mind conceive, And standard full of every luxury!

Ah, Crowd most damn'd, at war with God and man!
Ne'er look'd on Sorrow's sob, or Pity's tear!
Ne'er sigh'd with Sympathy! nor wept with Woe!
Ne'er smiled with Joy, or walk'd with Love to bliss,
Nor perch'd on flowery wing of Hope to soar
Above her home of perfect wretchedness!
But loved to feast where blood and slaughter roll'd
While death-pangs rent the cords that held in life,
And Carnage's hand enrichen'd all the plains!