University of Virginia Library

ON THE DEATH OF MRS. HANNAH DEWAL.

PART I.

Farewell, thou best of friends, farewell;
(Since God revokes His richest loan;)
Return, with kindred souls to dwell,
As pure and upright as thine own.
No longer could our prayers detain
The pilgrim from her heavenly rest:
Go, blessed saint, with Jesus reign,
And lean for ever on His breast.

In hope to share thine happiness,
We check the' unruly, selfish sigh,
Restraining nature's soft excess,
The tears commanding from our eye.
When Jesus to Himself doth take
A vessel of His glorious love,
'Tis sacrilege to wish her back,
To rob the sanctuary above.

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Yet should we on her memory dwell,
The pattern fair she left behind,
Her genuine faith and temper'd zeal,
Her noble, free, Berean mind;
Her diligence to search the word,
“If man his pardon'd sin may know;”
She sought till there she found her Lord,
And held and never let Him go.

On Him she fix'd her single eye,
And steady in His steps went on,
Studious by works to testify
The power of God in weakness shown.
A quiet follower of the Lamb,
She walk'd in Him she had received,
And more and more show'd forth His name,
And more and more like Jesus lived.

No sudden fits of transient love,
No instantaneous starts, she knew;
But show'd her heart was fix'd above,
And poorer still and poorer grew.
The seed increased, she knew not how,
Nor aim'd her Saviour's work to' explain.
Nor tempted Him by nature's Now,
But waited all His mind to gain.

Transparent as the crystal stream,
Her life in even tenour flow'd;
Careful to be, and not to seem,
Whate'er she was, she was to God.
Superior to reproach and praise,
By no fantastic impulse driven,
As unperceived she ran her race,
As rapid, as the orbs of heaven.

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Thither her Godlike spirit soar'd,
Above all pride, all wrath, all fear;
She triumph'd with her glorious Lord,
Yet suffer'd with His members here.
At every shape of woe distress'd,
How did her yearning bowels move!
Soft pity fill'd her generous breast,
And mix'd the eagle with the dove.

For friendship form'd, her constant heart
With pure, intense affection glow'd;
She could not give her friend a part,
Because she gave the whole to God.
Her friend she clasp'd with love entire,
Enkindled at the Saviour's throne,
A spark of that celestial fire,
A ray of that eternal Sun.

Could actions, words, or looks express
How warm, how boundless, her esteem?
Her soul's delight to' oblige and please,
Bliss to impart her joy supreme.
Say you, who shared that angel here,
Whom neither life nor death disjoin,
Was ever transport more sincere?
Was ever friendship more Divine!

PART II.

Celestial charity expands
The heart to all our ransom'd race;
Though knit to one in closest bands,
Her soul doth every soul embrace.

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She no unkind exception makes,
A childlike follower of her God;
The world into her heart she takes,
The purchase dear of Jesu's blood.

She loved even that most straiten'd sect
Who every other sect disown,
Who all beside themselves reject,
As heaven were bought for them alone:
With noble frankness she confess'd
Good out of Babylon might come,
And cherish'd in her candid breast
The warmest partisan of Rome.

But, number'd with the British sheep,
She prized and held the blessing fast,
Resolved her privilege to keep
Till all the storms of life were past:
She kept the faith at first received,
(Nor fiercely judged who turn'd aside,)
A daughter of our Sion lived,
A mother of our Israel died.

Warn'd of her dissolution near,
By waning strength and lingering pain,
She bless'd the welcome messenger;
(To live was Christ, to die was gain;)
Made ready for her heavenly Lord,
Who came His servant to release,
Her lamp with holiness was stored,
Her spirit kept in perfect peace.

She cast the tempting fiend behind,
Who preach'd, in her last sacred hours,
“Now, now believe again, and find
Sensations new and rapturous powers.”

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In vain to instantaneous pride
He urged a saint of Christ possess'd;
With ease she turn'd the dart aside,
And closer clave to Jesu's breast.

Her humble confidence she held,
Built on a Rock that could not move,
And, conscious of her pardon seal'd,
And fill'd with purity of love,
The world with wide-spread arms embraced,
Partaker of her Saviour's mind,
And, dying, all her soul confess'd
Alike drawn out to all mankind.

Her convoy to those endless joys,
While Israel's flaming guard attends,
The precious moments she employs
In dealing blessings to her friends;
In counsels kind as each had need,
In witnessing the truth of grace,
While angels crowd around her bed,
And heaven is open'd in her face.

“My Master calls: at His command,
Joyful I drop this earthly clod;
My roll I carry in my hand;
'Tis written, sign'd, and seal'd with blood:
My way,” she cries, “is strew'd with flowers;
A pleasant path before me lies,
And leads to amaranthine bowers,
And leads to Christ in paradise.”

When language fail'd, her silence spoke
In meekest majesty of love;
On opening heaven she fix'd her look,
Like angels worshipping above:

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Full of unutterable awe,
Her look the' Invisible declared,
As bringing, in the sight she saw,
Her weighty crown, her vast reward.

That vision of the One in Three
Sweetly dissolves the human shrine,
It swallows up mortality
In joy ineffably Divine:
That sight, too strong for life to bear,
Her true eternal Life displays,
And, eagle-like, she cleaves the air,
And mingles with the glorious blaze.