 | Later Lays and Lyrics |  |
THE DYING SAINT.
I.
Pass on to rest and victory,Tried champion of the Cross!
Although thy everlasting gain
Is our embittered loss.
The waves of mortal life subside
Upon the shores of time,
And death ere long on changing clay
Will set his seal sublime.
II.
Mother in Israel! we knowThere is in store for thee
A crown that fadeth not away,
Beyond the troubled sea;
There will thy husband, gone before,
His aged partner greet,
And in a house not made with hands
Love's scattered household meet.
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III.
Guide of my youth and riper age,Beloved by me and mine,
The beauty of a cloudless eve
Lends grace to thy decline.
Oh! death-bed of the good and just!
I never shall forget
Friends gathering like stars around
A sun about to set.
IV
Intelligence survived the powerTo utter parting words,
And sweetly on her listening ear
Fell notes of summer birds;
I felt her gently clasping hand,
Although she could not speak,
And light, as from the Better Land,
Fell on her pale, thin cheek.
V.
The low, balm-breathing air of JuneStole through the open door,
But could not to the wasted face
Its roses lost restore;
Though o'er it an expression came
More beautiful than bloom,
A signal that the passing soul
Had conquered grief and gloom.
VI.
Alas! my pen is uninspiredIn fitting words to paint
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The death-bed of a saint.
The gates of glory ope for her,
Then why deplore our loss?
Pass on to rest and victory,
Tried champion of the Cross!
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