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Is blindness, death, and everlasting woe.
Soft was the hand, and gentle was the blow, That summon'd Gifford from this vale below; Death like an angel came, and beck’ning stood, His willing soul took wing, and soar'd to God; In realms of bliss adores his Saviour's name, And bows, and sings salvation to the lamb.
OCCASIONED BY THE DEATH OF MRS. ELIZABITH
COME, heav'nly Muse, and with thy own soft fire
How chang’d the scene! when late in mortal clay (Ere her Redeemer call'd her soul away) Midst ills and enemies she sojourn'd here, Encompass'd with infirmity and fear; As all her kindred of the dust, who stand And wait a summons to the promis'd land ; Then (highly favor'd) did Eliza prove
The kind protection of the God of love.
affections to the Saviour's feet,
As when the rising sun his beams display, Checks the dull shades, and bids the night give way, Gradual she ushers in the roseate day ; Before his flaming car the vapours fly, Till gold and purple tinge the glowing sky; Nor stays his course, till with bright glories crown'd, He darts his full meridian splendors round. So the young saint arose from nature's night, And shone with every christian virtue bright ; In constant progress ran the heav'nly race, By wisdom guided, and upheld by grace. Vast was her mind, and large her mental pow'rs, Improv'd by study, in her leisure hours; Devoted to her God, her mem'ry stor'd With the rich treasures of the sacred word; Deep read in things divine, she shone in youth,
Alluding to her being brought to a sense and knowledge of divine things, under the ministry of the Rev. J. Langford, when only eight years of age, who is a witness of the progress she made therein, under the blessing of God; also, of her trials and triumphs in general, from that time till her death.
A living concordance of heav'nly truth.
Hail, happy saint! immortal bliss is thine,
Before her death, she chose the text for her funeral ser: mnon, and the hymns to be sung at her funeral, with pleasure and composure. Mr. Langford, according to her request, preached a discourse on the occasion, from Rev. chap. vii, ver. 14. Sunday evening, April 20, 1783, at the Chapel, in Rose-lane, Ratcliff.
Eternal life and everlasting gain,
How shall the Muse address a weeping pair ? The muse shall weep and in their sorrows share : Let stoic hearts disdain to feel, but here Friendship shall drop a sympathetic tear.... A husband and a father! tender names ! Such sacred ties a sober sorrow claims ; Think not the rising sigh, tho'sad, amiss; Tears are well shed on such a grave as this. · But while ye mourn, o let your thoughts arise Above the eagle's flight, to yon bright skies ; There your Eliza lives ; there Jesus reigns ; And saints are free from sin, from cares and pains : Death cannot enter there ; his pow'rful dart Can stab no more, no more can wound the heart ; For life, eternal life, completes the joy, And not one anxious thought shall e'er annoy: