Thou art gone to the grave! and, its mansion for saking, Perchance thy weak spirit in fear linger'd long; But the mild rays of paradise beam'd on thy waking, And the sound which thou heardst was the seraphim's song! Thou art gone to the grave! but we will not deplore thee, Whose God was thy ransom, thy guardian and guide; He gave thee, he took thee, and he will restore thee, And death has no sting, for the Saviour has died!* * The following stanzas were written as an addition to the above hymn, by an English clergyman, on hearing of the decease of the author. Thou art gone to the grave! and whole nations bemoan thee, Who caught from thy lips the glad tidings of peace : Yet grateful, they still in their hearts shall enthrone thee, And ne'er shall thy name from their memories cease. Thou art gone to the grave! but thy work shall not perish, That work which the Spirit of wisdom hath blest; His strength shall sustain it, his comforts shall cherish, And make it to prosper, though thou art at rest. ON RECOVERY FROM SICKNESS. Oн, Saviour of the faithful dead, Above their narrow cell,— No more we cling to mortal clay, Nor shrink to tread the darksome way "Twas hard from those I loved to go, Who knelt around my bed, Whose tears bedew'd my burning brow, Whose arms upheld my head! As fading from my dizzy view, And groan'd to live again. 'Twas dreadful, when th' accuser's power Assail'd my sinking heart, Recounting every wasted hour, And each unworthy part : But, Jesus! in that mortal fray, When soon or late this feeble breath When cloth'd in fleshly weeds again I wait thy dread decree, Judge of the world! bethink thee then |