430.
Death of the Good Man.
1
Death comes to all, and now to one
Who has the Race of Wisdom run,
So soon to walk in white;
While others lived to eat, and dream,
In sailing down time's rapid stream,
He kept the end in sight.
2
Of sorrow, he has borne his part,
And often felt the burden'd heart,
And dropt the secret tear;
But care was lighten'd of its load,
By trusting in a faithful God,
The Friend, for ever near.
3
Physicians oft, that we might live,
The nauseous draught, unsparing, give,
Or sweeten to allure;
And he, submissive, understood,
The Best Physician, wise and good,
Knew what alone would cure.
4
But now his pains and griefs are o'er,
He, too, draws near to Jordan's shore,
Yet he the prospect hails;
Some conflict Nature still maintains,
But hope his sinking heart sustains,
And faith, at last, prevails.
5
The ground he feels is solid ground;
Trust in his Lord, ere this, he found
Could lighten sorrow's chain;
And now he proves, when death is near,
His presence can support and cheer,
When earthly help is vain.
6
The things of time, he finds indeed,
Desert him in his hour of need;
The best, an empty name!
Now wealth, and power, and honours bright,
Like shadows, vanish from his sight,
But Christ is still the same.
7
A servant, profitless, is he;
His only hope is mercy free;
The Cross is now his stay;
All other confidence recedes,
He now the Blood of Sprinkling pleads,
And flies to Endless Day!
