 | Poems |  |
95
On the Death of Bishop Gray of Capetown,
Sept. 1, 1872.
Rest, Heart, from all thy pulsing fire that beatAt trumpet-call of high self-sacrifice,
Rest till another trumpet bid thee rise,
Oh, rest from all the burden and the heat!
Champion of God! no more thine eager feet
Shall track the prints of Him who went before,
And woke thy heart-love for the cross He bore,
And drew thee to Him by His love so sweet.
To thee God's Word was true, for God was true,
Christ's Church beloved for love of Christ who died;
Well didst thou wield the sword the long day through
To guard from loss the Word, from stain the Bride.
O bravest tenderest heart, all fire, all love!
Thy work is done! Rest with the saints above!
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