University of Virginia Library

OTWAY.

Poet, whose lays our memory still
Back from the past is bringing,
Whose sweetest songs were in thy life
And never in thy singing;
For chords thy hand had scarcely touched
By death were rudely broken,
And poems, trembling on thy lip,
Alas! were never spoken.
We say thy words of hope and cheer
When hope of ours would languish,
And keep them always in our hearts
For comfort in our anguish.
Yet not for thee we mourn as those
Who feel by God forsaken;
We would rejoice that thou wert lent,
Nor weep that thou wert taken.
For thou didst lead us up from earth
To walk in fields elysian,
And show to us the heavenly shore
In many a raptured vision.
Thy faith was strong from earth's last trial
The spirit to deliver,
And throw a golden bridge across
Death's dark and silent river;
A bridge, where fearless thou didst pass
The stern and awful warder,
And enter with triumphant songs
Upon the heavenly border.
Oh, for a harp like thine to sing
The songs that are immortal;
Oh, for a faith like thine to cross
The everlasting portal!
Then might we tell to all the world
Redemption's wondrous story;

404

Go down to death as thou didst go,
And up from death to glory.