The Gospel Miracles In A Series of Poetical Sketches: With Illustrative Conversations. By Richard Mant |
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THE CHRISTIAN'S CONSOLATION ON THE DEATH OF FRIENDS. |
 | The Gospel Miracles |  |
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THE CHRISTIAN'S CONSOLATION ON THE DEATH OF FRIENDS.
It has been said, and I believe,
Tho' tears of natural sorrow start,
'Tis mix'd with pleasure when we grieve
For those, the dearest to the heart,
From whom, long lov'd, at length we part:
As, by a Christian's feelings led,
We lay them in their peaceful bed.
Tho' tears of natural sorrow start,
'Tis mix'd with pleasure when we grieve
For those, the dearest to the heart,
From whom, long lov'd, at length we part:
As, by a Christian's feelings led,
We lay them in their peaceful bed.
Yet speak I not of those, who go
The allotted pilgrimage on earth,
With earthborn passions grovelling low,
Enslaved to honour, avarice, mirth,
Unconscious of a nobler birth:
But such as tread, with loftier scope,
The Christian's path with Christian hope.
The allotted pilgrimage on earth,
With earthborn passions grovelling low,
Enslaved to honour, avarice, mirth,
Unconscious of a nobler birth:
But such as tread, with loftier scope,
The Christian's path with Christian hope.
We grieve to think, that they again
Shall ne'er in this world's pleasure share:
But sweet the thought, that this world's pain
No more is their's; that this world's care
It is no more their lot to bear:
And surely, in this scene below,
The joy is balanc'd by the woe.
Shall ne'er in this world's pleasure share:
But sweet the thought, that this world's pain
No more is their's; that this world's care
It is no more their lot to bear:
And surely, in this scene below,
The joy is balanc'd by the woe.
We grieve to see the lifeless form,
The livid cheek, the sunken eye:
But sweet to think, corruption's worm
The deathless spirit can defy,
And claim its kindred with the sky.
Lo! there the earthly vessel lies;
Aloft the unbodied tenant flies.
The livid cheek, the sunken eye:
But sweet to think, corruption's worm
The deathless spirit can defy,
And claim its kindred with the sky.
Lo! there the earthly vessel lies;
Aloft the unbodied tenant flies.
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We grieve to think, our eyes no more
That form, those features lov'd, shall trace:
But sweet it is, from memory's store
To call each fondly-cherish'd grace,
And fold them in the heart's embrace.
No bliss 'mid worldly crowds is bred,
Like musing on the sainted dead.
That form, those features lov'd, shall trace:
But sweet it is, from memory's store
To call each fondly-cherish'd grace,
And fold them in the heart's embrace.
No bliss 'mid worldly crowds is bred,
Like musing on the sainted dead.
We grieve to see expir'd the race,
They ran intent on works of love;
But sweet to think, no mixture base,
Which with their better nature strove,
Shall mar their virtuous deeds above.
Sin o'er their soul has lost his hold,
And left them with their earthly mould.
They ran intent on works of love;
But sweet to think, no mixture base,
Which with their better nature strove,
Shall mar their virtuous deeds above.
Sin o'er their soul has lost his hold,
And left them with their earthly mould.
We grieve to know, that we must roam,
Apart from them, each wonted spot:
But sweet to think, that they a home
Have gain'd, a fair and goodly lot,
Enduring, and that changeth not.
And who that home of freedom there
Will with this prison-house compare?
Apart from them, each wonted spot:
But sweet to think, that they a home
Have gain'd, a fair and goodly lot,
Enduring, and that changeth not.
And who that home of freedom there
Will with this prison-house compare?
'Tis grief to feel, that we behind,
Sever'd from those we love, remain:
'Tis joy to hope, that we shall find,
Exempt from sorrow, fear, and pain,
With them our dwelling-place again.
'Tis but like them to sink to rest,
With them to waken and be blest!
Sever'd from those we love, remain:
'Tis joy to hope, that we shall find,
Exempt from sorrow, fear, and pain,
With them our dwelling-place again.
'Tis but like them to sink to rest,
With them to waken and be blest!
O Thou, who form'st thy creature's mind
With thoughts that chasten and that cheer;
Grant me to fill my space assign'd
For sojourning, a stranger, here,
With holy hope and filial fear!
Fear, to be banish'd far from Thee;
And hope, thy face unveil'd to see!
With thoughts that chasten and that cheer;
Grant me to fill my space assign'd
For sojourning, a stranger, here,
With holy hope and filial fear!
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And hope, thy face unveil'd to see!
There before Thee, the Great, the Good,
By angel myriads compass'd round,
Made perfect by the Saviour's blood,
With virtue cloth'd, with honour crown'd,
The spirits of the just are found.
There tears no more of sorrow start:
Pain flies the unmolested heart:
And life in bliss unites, whom death no more shall part.
By angel myriads compass'd round,
Made perfect by the Saviour's blood,
With virtue cloth'd, with honour crown'd,
The spirits of the just are found.
There tears no more of sorrow start:
Pain flies the unmolested heart:
And life in bliss unites, whom death no more shall part.
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