 | The Choir and The Oratory |  |
251
DEATH.
“By one man sin entered into the world, and death by Sin.”—Rom. v. 12.
“And death by Sin,”—Sin the sole cause of Death.
Yet do not brutes and things unconscious die?
The happy birds that spend in song their breath,
Bright insects, flowers, and all beneath the sky?
They bloom or breathe, then change and disappear;
But death they know not, fear not, need not fear.
Yet do not brutes and things unconscious die?
The happy birds that spend in song their breath,
Bright insects, flowers, and all beneath the sky?
They bloom or breathe, then change and disappear;
But death they know not, fear not, need not fear.
Extinction is not death. Its fading leaves
The tree deplores not, nor resents its fall.
The insect feels no pang. No being grieves
To die, but conscious Man, who mourns for all.
But to the brute, his term of being spent,
Death is cessation, and not punishment.
The tree deplores not, nor resents its fall.
The insect feels no pang. No being grieves
To die, but conscious Man, who mourns for all.
But to the brute, his term of being spent,
Death is cessation, and not punishment.
Creative Opulence can well sustain
This waste and flow of reproductive life,
In wondrous scale; and nothing lives in vain.
Oh! had there been thro' Nature's ranks no strife,
No need to kill, no men or beasts of prey,
How gently forms of earth had turned to clay!
This waste and flow of reproductive life,
In wondrous scale; and nothing lives in vain.
Oh! had there been thro' Nature's ranks no strife,
252
How gently forms of earth had turned to clay!
Then what is death? Is it life's tranquil close,
As stops the time-piece when the spring is spent,—
Sleep's “brother twin,” the dreamless Grave's repose,
The debt of Nature? Oh can this be meant
By Sin's dire sentence? Whence hath Death its sting?
Or why the power and realm of death a King?
As stops the time-piece when the spring is spent,—
Sleep's “brother twin,” the dreamless Grave's repose,
The debt of Nature? Oh can this be meant
By Sin's dire sentence? Whence hath Death its sting?
Or why the power and realm of death a King?
Man only, conscious of the doom he fears,
Survives, Death's captive, changed but not destroyed.
Torn from its shell, the spirit disappears,
Called by a summons it would fain avoid.
The humbled form commingles with the sod:
The naked spirit goes to meet its God.
Survives, Death's captive, changed but not destroyed.
Torn from its shell, the spirit disappears,
Called by a summons it would fain avoid.
The humbled form commingles with the sod:
The naked spirit goes to meet its God.
Death! 'tis a fearful, yet a blessed thing;
A curse through Adam, yet through Christ a boon.
Glory to Him who drew the serpent's sting,
That we might trample on the Monster soon.
Man only dies: He was made man, to save,
By suffering death and vanquishing the Grave.
A curse through Adam, yet through Christ a boon.
Glory to Him who drew the serpent's sting,
That we might trample on the Monster soon.
Man only dies: He was made man, to save,
By suffering death and vanquishing the Grave.
253
Where is thy victory, Grave? This body must
Be sown in weakness, to be raised in power.
Destroy this temple,—scatter wide its dust;
Let flames consume this flesh, or worms devour:
The germ is safe: it waits the call to rise.
The life from Christ imparted never dies.
Be sown in weakness, to be raised in power.
Destroy this temple,—scatter wide its dust;
Let flames consume this flesh, or worms devour:
The germ is safe: it waits the call to rise.
The life from Christ imparted never dies.
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