University of Virginia Library

FUNERAL DIRGE.

INTERMENT OF THE AGED SAINT.

THE MOURNERS.

First Voice.
WHAT man is he who breathes the air,
And shall not to the tomb descend?
The march of glory ceases there,
And there earth's proudest pageants end!

Response.
Let our hearts with transport glow,
We have a hope, a glorious trust;
Thy worshippers, O Father! know,
That thou wilt raise their sleeping dust.

First Voice.
Aged traveller! to the grave,
With many a tear, we bear thee on;
Now, beyond each swelling wave,
Thou, to endless rest, art gone.

Response.
Aged father! aged saint!
Sorrow's cup to thee was given;
But, thou hast breath'd thy last complaint,
Perfected, and call'd to heaven.

First Voice.
Ere his crown, the righteous wears,
In his pilgrimage below,
Many sorrows, many cares,
Must his spirit undergo.

Response.
Ere the oak, in all his power,
Spreads his stately limbs, mature,
Many a sun-shine, many a shower,
Wind and rain, must he endure.

First Voice.
God speaks from his eternal throne,
And flaming hosts, his will perform;
He hath his fearful path, unknown,
In the whirlwind, and the storm.

Response.
Twilight veils our prospects here,
But we haste to perfect day,
Where the doubtful shall be clear,
And the darkness pass away.

First Voice.
Behold the upright man, and mark
How he concludes his mortal race,
When every earthly view is dark,
And death draws near with solemn pace.

Response.
Of heaven's unchanging promise sure,
Patient, he waits his soul's release;
And, as his life was calm and pure,
So, when he dies, his end is peace.

Chorus.
May we so pass our time below,
Mercy our hope, and faith our friend,
That, when we leave this world of woe,
Our lives may, like the righteous, end!