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126

DEATH.

I

Since time the awful hour will bring
Which must receive our parting breath;
'Tis no unwise, or useless thing
To fix our earnest thoughts on Death.

II

To place before our mental view
A crisis — which we cannot shun,
When we, in bidding Time adieu,
Shall find Eternity begun.

III

It must an awful summons prove,
E'en to the best, — to leave behind
All we have found to cheer, to love,
In human life, in human kind!
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IV

Then, in the looks of those around,
Who never seem'd so dear before,
Doubt has a silent answer found,
And feels that earthly hope is o'er.

V

Then, spite of fond affection's thrill,
That fain would linger—follow fast
The dizzy faintness,—sick'ning chill,
Which lead us onward—to the last!

VI

The filmy eye, with vacant gaze,
Views not the things it rests upon;
The fluttering pulse more feebly plays,
And feeling, hearing, sense—are gone.

VII

If hands are clasp'd, the heart, unstirr'd
By that last pressure, feels no glow;
If sobs are indistinctly heard,
The ear their meaning does not know.
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VIII

Thus dead unto “the life of life,”
All it can give we feel no more,
But wait the last unconscious strife,—
And soon that struggle, too, is o'er.

IX

Is this a scene we all must prove
In the short lapse of days or years?
And round our couch the friends we love
Thus pour their unavailing tears?

X

No — Faith dispels the awful gloom,
And bids the mourner's weeping eyes
Behold, from yonder bursting tomb,
The Sun of Righteousness arise.

XI

No more on man's expiring hour
Impervious clouds of darkness fall;
Death has now lost his boasted power,
Nor dares the ransom'd victim thrall.
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XII

Why should we fear his transient sway,
Since Jesus broke the tyrant's chain?
Because He lives, our slumb'ring clay
Shall wake to light and life again.

XIII

Oh, who may hope that awful hour,
That righteous Judge in peace to meet?
They who on earth confess'd his power,
And cast their crowns at Jesus' feet.

XIV

Weak though they are, by nature frail,
Hopes, fix'd on him, their hearts possess;
Faith bids them look within the veil,
And Christ becomes their righteousness.

XV

Can I such blissful state attain,
Who, long in doubt and darkness bound,
Have felt that all my works are vain
As tinkling cymbals' empty sound?
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XVI

Yes—for in conscious weakness springs
Sincerest trust in Power Divine;
Then rest beneath His guardian wings,
And hope, and faith, and peace, are thine.

XVII

No more than this I ask, or need,
Secure, since near th' eternal throne
He ever lives, and still will plead
For all who his dominion own.

XVIII

On Him then cast each anxious care,
To Him thy secret griefs confide;
His hand shall point the latent snare,
And aid thee when severely tried.

XIX

And when life's closing hour draws nigh,
May no vain fears thy bosom chill,
But, though unseen by mortal eye,
That heavenly guide be with thee still.
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XX

Oh, be it thus! and visions bright,
Blest foretaste of a life divine,
Triumphant songs, and crowns of light,
The parting soul may well resign.

XXI

I would not o'er a brighter mind
Than I can boast, a shadow fling;
Nor would I doubt the bliss they find
Whose dying lips can praises sing.

XXII

But unto me earth's holiest hymn
Would float, I fear, unheeded by,
When earth itself was growing dim,
And ‘things unseen’ were drawing nigh.

XXIII

Nor, if I now can rightly view
What my own feelings then may be,
Could aught that man might say, or do,
Afford availing strength to me.
132

XXIV

The most that I presume to think,
Through boundless mercy, may be mine,
When plac'd on being's trembling brink,
Is humble trust in grace Divine.
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