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142
To the Memory of Oliver Heywood.
MANCHESTER, MARCH 17TH, 1892.
There are some lives that never sure should end
While pain and anguish dwell beneath the sun,
And heart-ache needs compassion: thine was one,
High-souled and gentle, sympathetic friend!
To thee the city did her sorrow send,
The poor and fatherless to thee did run,
All came unto thy mercy's gate, and none
Found thee too full of business to attend.
While pain and anguish dwell beneath the sun,
And heart-ache needs compassion: thine was one,
High-souled and gentle, sympathetic friend!
To thee the city did her sorrow send,
The poor and fatherless to thee did run,
All came unto thy mercy's gate, and none
Found thee too full of business to attend.
Now thou art laid beneath the quiet sod,
The sweetest flowers that ever gladdened sight
Shall make the silence fragrant o'er thy rest,
Few mark thy place of slumber, so is best—
For thy good deeds did ever shun the light;
Done for Christ's sake, known only unto God.
The sweetest flowers that ever gladdened sight
Shall make the silence fragrant o'er thy rest,
Few mark thy place of slumber, so is best—
For thy good deeds did ever shun the light;
Done for Christ's sake, known only unto God.
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