Hath not their Saviour trod the way, By his own word confirmed them blest? "From henceforth sacred be their clay, "Yea, saith the spirit, for they rest."
Ye murmurs, hush; complaints, be still; We would not, dare not, Lord, repine; Thou mad'st us for thy perfect will, Friends and affections, all are Thine.
Yet, chastened, while we bow before thee,
With resignation own thee just,
And humbly yield thy own unto thee,
Forgive the tear that dews the dust.
We mourn, when recollected worth
Is to the closing tomb consigned;
The stay of age, the guide of youth,
Is, silently, with earth enshrined.
We triumph, for the fatal sting
Subdued, is past: removed is pain;
Faith doth the holy solace bring,
"Our loss is his eternal gain."
We triumph, for the grave unsealing,
Shall one day yield, what now is sown:
JESUS, his glorious power revealing,
Will rouse the dust and call his own.
WEEP not, when sad distress is nigh,
When bliss and transient pleasures fly;
When earthly blessings droop and fade,
When all is wrapt in sorrow's shade.
Weep not, when death with cruel dart,
Pierces some idol of the heart;
When hallowed friendship decks the bier,
When tender love would claim the tear.
Weep not, for as the morning cloud,
Doth nature's radiant smiles enshroud;
But scatters soon;-these gloomy woes,
Shall flee, and all be calm repose.
Weep not, for as the floweret fair,
Is crushed with winter's blighting air;
Pressed rudely down, it droops its head,
And all its varied hues are fled:
With opening spring, its bloom revives; Again, the beauteous floweret lives; Thus, when life's wintry storms are o'er, The friend revives, to die no more.
FAIR, blooming Spring, appears with smile serene;
All nature beams with innocence and love:
No more stern winter glooms the opening sky,
The frigid north receives its hoary sire.
Now man walks forth to taste the fragrant breeze
At early morn, ere Phoebus' burning ray
Sips the chaste dew that gems the blushing flower.
O how his soul expands with thrilling joy;
With eager bound, he, blithesome, treads the lawn,
While grateful praise his ardent bosom warms.
Sweet are the joys of Flora's happy reign,
When rural pleasure smiles; but soon the hour
Will come, nor shall delay, when that fair Spring
Whose virgin charms the raptured harp hath told,
Shall quick recede, yea, flee as fast away
As the bright meteor of a lowering sky,
Or as fond dreams when youthful fancy leads,
Whispering of peace, while memory wakes to tears.
All, all will flee, these flowers will fade away,
Urged on by time the halcyon moments fly,
In the dark region of eternal night
Shall they be lost, while man alone survives.
O then how wise, how blessed supremely he
Who views, beyond the narrow bounds of Time,
The happy realms of pure ethereal joy;
When earth shall flee, and skies dissolve away,
This soul shall anchor on the peaceful shore:
No raging storm, no blighting winter there;
For calm is Heaven, and love divine shall prove
The smiling dawn of an eternal Spring.
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