A memorial volume of sacred poetry by the late Sir John Bowring. To which is prefixed, a memoir of the author, by Lady Bowring |
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Funeral Hymn.
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 | A memorial volume of sacred poetry |  |
Funeral Hymn.
We stand upon the grave, but thou
Hast passed its awful portal now:
We daily die. Heaven gives to thee
A life of immortality.
Hast passed its awful portal now:
We daily die. Heaven gives to thee
A life of immortality.
Sleep on in peace; for now in vain
Would woe disturb thy peace again;
And thou art landed on the shore
Where sorrow's billows break no more.
Would woe disturb thy peace again;
And thou art landed on the shore
Where sorrow's billows break no more.
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We follow thee. Thy course was fleet,
And fleet is ours—thy rest is sweet,
As ours shall be. Make haste, prepare
A pillow for thy followers there.
And fleet is ours—thy rest is sweet,
As ours shall be. Make haste, prepare
A pillow for thy followers there.
While wandering here, our heart shall keep
Thy memory in its mansions deep;
And when that mansion shall decay,
'Twill mingle with thy holy clay.
Thy memory in its mansions deep;
And when that mansion shall decay,
'Twill mingle with thy holy clay.
And He who wept His friend, as we
Weep ours, shall our Redeemer be,
And wake us in that morn which brings
Eternity upon its wings.
Weep ours, shall our Redeemer be,
And wake us in that morn which brings
Eternity upon its wings.
| A memorial volume of sacred poetry | |