 | Poems by Miss H. F. Gould |  |
217
THE PASTOR'S FUNERAL.
The bell oft has called his flock to hear
Their shepherd's voice, now mournfully is sounding.
Sadly and slow the funeral train draws near,
With weeds and gloom his lifeless form surrounding.
Their shepherd's voice, now mournfully is sounding.
Sadly and slow the funeral train draws near,
With weeds and gloom his lifeless form surrounding.
They reach the sacred aisle that late he trod
With pious fervor, from the holy pages
To feed his listeners with the word of God—
To point his people to the Rock of Ages.
With pious fervor, from the holy pages
To feed his listeners with the word of God—
To point his people to the Rock of Ages.
Under death's sable drapery, wan and cold,
Robed for the waiting tomb, as they prepare him,
Here, that his flock may once again behold
His face on earth, with solemn step they bear him.
Robed for the waiting tomb, as they prepare him,
Here, that his flock may once again behold
His face on earth, with solemn step they bear him.
No more his knee before the throne of grace
Is now beheld in deep devotion bending;
No inspiration kindles up his face;
No grateful song is in his voice ascending.
Is now beheld in deep devotion bending;
No inspiration kindles up his face;
No grateful song is in his voice ascending.
Praise and persuasion have forsook his tongue;
Beneath its lid his eye is fixed and beamless:
He lies there silent as a lyre unstrung,
All hushed his music, and his slumber dreamless.
Beneath its lid his eye is fixed and beamless:
He lies there silent as a lyre unstrung,
All hushed his music, and his slumber dreamless.
218
No prayer, grown fervent with the fainting breath,
Nor parting blessing those sealed lips are giving!
But, with the full bold eloquence of death,
His cold, pale features now address the living.
Nor parting blessing those sealed lips are giving!
But, with the full bold eloquence of death,
His cold, pale features now address the living.
They say to youth, whose tears flow fast for him,
“Weep not for this! but be for sin thy sorrow!”
To aged eyes, with grief and years grown dim,
“Watch! for the summons may be sent to-morrow!
“Weep not for this! but be for sin thy sorrow!”
To aged eyes, with grief and years grown dim,
“Watch! for the summons may be sent to-morrow!
“What we so oft have said, we come to prove:—
Few are the days the lamp of life is burning.
In this poor ashes must ye now remove
Earth to earth's bosom—dust to dust returning.
Few are the days the lamp of life is burning.
In this poor ashes must ye now remove
Earth to earth's bosom—dust to dust returning.
“Yet know, your Pastor and his flock shall meet
Ere long, amid the all-showing light of heaven,
Account to render at the judgment seat,
For bread which you received—which he has given.
Ere long, amid the all-showing light of heaven,
Account to render at the judgment seat,
For bread which you received—which he has given.
“Remember this! and for the darksome night
Which he has passed, hence be ye all preparing.
May ye next meet him, robed in spotless white,
Each o'er the grave the palm of victory bearing!”
Which he has passed, hence be ye all preparing.
May ye next meet him, robed in spotless white,
Each o'er the grave the palm of victory bearing!”
| Poems by Miss H. F. Gould | |