 | [Consecration hymn, in] Address delivered on the consecration of the Spring Grove Cemetery, near Cincinnati, August 20th, 1845, by the Hon. John M'Lean |  |
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CONSECRATION HYMN.
Maker of all above!
Father of all below!
As now we meet, thy ‘chosen’ met
Thousands of years ago.
Sojourners, like ourselves,
On earth for a brief space,
They sought the grove, and hallowed it
As their last resting place.
Father of all below!
As now we meet, thy ‘chosen’ met
Thousands of years ago.
Sojourners, like ourselves,
On earth for a brief space,
They sought the grove, and hallowed it
As their last resting place.
And kindred feelings yet
Thy children's bosoms sway;
And oft they meet, as we have met
Within these shades to-day:—
The cool groves rising round,
The slopes beneath them spread,
We consecrate, with awe profound,
Forever to the dead.
Thy children's bosoms sway;
And oft they meet, as we have met
Within these shades to-day:—
The cool groves rising round,
The slopes beneath them spread,
We consecrate, with awe profound,
Forever to the dead.
The Hebrew's latest sigh,
'Mid being's parting moans,
Was that his aged form might lie
With his forefathers' bones.
So, when we've breathed our last,
Here may our burial be,
To wait, with kindred dead, the blast
That summons us to thee.
'Mid being's parting moans,
Was that his aged form might lie
With his forefathers' bones.
So, when we've breathed our last,
Here may our burial be,
To wait, with kindred dead, the blast
That summons us to thee.
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Thy smile is on us, God!
From the beautiful blue skies
It looks, and from the fresh green sod
That all around us lies.
Oh, when the hour shall come
Earth's scenes no more we know,
Smile thus upon our hearts, as down
To the dark grave we go!
From the beautiful blue skies
It looks, and from the fresh green sod
That all around us lies.
Oh, when the hour shall come
Earth's scenes no more we know,
Smile thus upon our hearts, as down
To the dark grave we go!
Thy voice is with us here,
'Mid the silence and the shade,
Where oft the mourner's bitterest tear
Must fall upon the glade.
But it speaks not of despair—
It bids us look above,
At the Bow of Promise spanning there
The whole broad Heaven of Love.
'Mid the silence and the shade,
Where oft the mourner's bitterest tear
Must fall upon the glade.
But it speaks not of despair—
It bids us look above,
At the Bow of Promise spanning there
The whole broad Heaven of Love.
| [Consecration hymn, in] Address delivered on the consecration of the Spring Grove Cemetery, near Cincinnati, August 20th, 1845, by the Hon. John M'Lean | |