 | Poems by Bernard Barton |  |
264
A CHRISTIAN'S DIRGE.
The hour is come, the solemn hour,
When earth to earth we give;
Our hope, our stay, the Saviour's power,
Who died that man might live.
When earth to earth we give;
Our hope, our stay, the Saviour's power,
Who died that man might live.
Though dear the form, and lov'd the heart
We now commit to dust,
No virtues of the dead impart
Our spirits' holiest trust.
We now commit to dust,
No virtues of the dead impart
Our spirits' holiest trust.
Those virtues memory oft shall trace
With pensive placid brow,
But Christian faith and Christian grace
Must be our refuge now.
With pensive placid brow,
But Christian faith and Christian grace
Must be our refuge now.
The light they lend alone can cheer
The dark and silent tomb,
Can hush the sigh, make bright the tear,
And glory give for gloom.
The dark and silent tomb,
Can hush the sigh, make bright the tear,
And glory give for gloom.
265
We would not mourn as those who see
No hope beyond the grave;
Before thee, Lord! we bend the knee,
The Comforter we crave.
No hope beyond the grave;
Before thee, Lord! we bend the knee,
The Comforter we crave.
His power can make the soul rejoice,
Though eyes with grief be dim,
And bid us raise with grateful voice
A Christian's funeral hymn.
Though eyes with grief be dim,
And bid us raise with grateful voice
A Christian's funeral hymn.
| Poems by Bernard Barton | |