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77
BISHOP JAMES A. SHORTER.
Lines Suggested by the Death of our Beloved Bishop, James A. Shorter, who died July 1, 1887.
It came upon the noontide air,
Like thunder-bolt from clearest skies;
Stout hearts were clad in sore despair,
And floods of tears flowed from all eyes.
Across the States and o'er the plain,
And to the distant Isles it sped;
From mountain height to sea's domain,
Flashed the sad message, “Shorter's dead!”
Like thunder-bolt from clearest skies;
Stout hearts were clad in sore despair,
And floods of tears flowed from all eyes.
Across the States and o'er the plain,
And to the distant Isles it sped;
From mountain height to sea's domain,
Flashed the sad message, “Shorter's dead!”
From lip to lip the sad news ran,
From every breast arose a sigh;
Awestricken stood the stoutest man,
Till hope bade all look up on high.
God still is just, allwise is He—
What He hath taken He can send;
Bow down in meek humility
And own Him! Trust Him to the end!
From every breast arose a sigh;
Awestricken stood the stoutest man,
Till hope bade all look up on high.
God still is just, allwise is He—
What He hath taken He can send;
Bow down in meek humility
And own Him! Trust Him to the end!
Our Shorter dies—do we say dead?
Nay, only sleeps to wake again!
Though earth affords an humble bed,
With Kings and Princes he shall reign!
He slept not at his duty's post,
Who was a mighty army's head—
He led an ever conquering host—
He sleeps—say not that he is dead!
Nay, only sleeps to wake again!
Though earth affords an humble bed,
With Kings and Princes he shall reign!
He slept not at his duty's post,
Who was a mighty army's head—
He led an ever conquering host—
He sleeps—say not that he is dead!
Heaven stood in need of saint to fill
Some holy office on that day;
And angels, at their sovereign's will,
Quickly to earth they sped away.
They sought one pure and true and good;
They found in Shorter what they sought;
Pure in his life and love he stood,
And to our sire this message brought:
Some holy office on that day;
And angels, at their sovereign's will,
Quickly to earth they sped away.
They sought one pure and true and good;
They found in Shorter what they sought;
Pure in his life and love he stood,
And to our sire this message brought:
78
Thy God to-day hath need of thee,
They whispered gently in his ear;
He looked the shining ones to see,
And smiled while they were hovering near.
His ever-ready sword in hand,
Directed e'er towards evil's breast,
Now laid he down at God's command,
And entered into peaceful rest.
They whispered gently in his ear;
He looked the shining ones to see,
And smiled while they were hovering near.
His ever-ready sword in hand,
Directed e'er towards evil's breast,
Now laid he down at God's command,
And entered into peaceful rest.
The startled millions paused in pain,
Tempted to ask the reason why
Their noble captain should be slain?
Then out of heaven came this cry:
“White is the harvest on the plain,
And ripe this shock of wheat has grown:
Ye angels reap this perfect grain,
Which I with mine own hand hath sown.”
Tempted to ask the reason why
Their noble captain should be slain?
Then out of heaven came this cry:
“White is the harvest on the plain,
And ripe this shock of wheat has grown:
Ye angels reap this perfect grain,
Which I with mine own hand hath sown.”
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