 | Poems |  |
192
LINES ON THE DEATH OF THE REV. S. K. TALMAGE.
Mourn not, friends, mourn not, bereaved,
That his earthly race is run;
He hath reached the gates celestial,
Over death the victory won.
That his earthly race is run;
He hath reached the gates celestial,
Over death the victory won.
Moulded in his Father's image,
He the Saviour's footsteps trod;
And God claimed his sainted spirit,
Ere the body reached the sod.
He the Saviour's footsteps trod;
And God claimed his sainted spirit,
Ere the body reached the sod.
Ah! ye would not then recall him,
But a tenement of clay;
Bless, oh! bless God, that his mercy,
Called his loved one away.
But a tenement of clay;
Bless, oh! bless God, that his mercy,
Called his loved one away.
193
Meek and lowly, pure in spirit—
Humble as a little child—
Mighty in his love of Jesus—
He is with the undefiled.
Humble as a little child—
Mighty in his love of Jesus—
He is with the undefiled.
Ever ready with his counsel,
And his prayers to guide the young;
Choirs of redeemed sinners,
When he died, the requiem sung.
And his prayers to guide the young;
Choirs of redeemed sinners,
When he died, the requiem sung.
Mourn not, friends, mourn not, bereaved,
That his earthly race is run;
He hath reached the goal eternal,
Over death the victory won.
That his earthly race is run;
He hath reached the goal eternal,
Over death the victory won.
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