 | English melodies |  |
174
THE SEXTON.
The spade shook in his trembling hand,
His hair was white with years;
And deep within the burial sand,
Fast fell the Sexton's tears:
Why weep'st thou—man of many graves—
Why sink'st thou thus with care;
Earth loses, but still Heaven saves,
There is a world elsewhere.
His hair was white with years;
And deep within the burial sand,
Fast fell the Sexton's tears:
Why weep'st thou—man of many graves—
Why sink'st thou thus with care;
Earth loses, but still Heaven saves,
There is a world elsewhere.
This morning when I rose, he said,
And saw the church-yard drear;
And thought of him, my son, that dead
Lay in his chamber near;
Methought I'd ask some other hand
To make his grave for me;
It scarcely seem'd that I could stand—
Or I the earth could see!
And saw the church-yard drear;
And thought of him, my son, that dead
Lay in his chamber near;
Methought I'd ask some other hand
To make his grave for me;
It scarcely seem'd that I could stand—
Or I the earth could see!
175
But he, I knew, if I had died,
No duty would discard;
And so I pray'd for strength, and tried—
But it was hard—'twas hard!
You've bade my heart some hope attain,
Some little comfort share,
My loss—I know—is Heaven's gain!
There is a world elsewhere.
No duty would discard;
And so I pray'd for strength, and tried—
But it was hard—'twas hard!
You've bade my heart some hope attain,
Some little comfort share,
My loss—I know—is Heaven's gain!
There is a world elsewhere.
| English melodies | |