University of Virginia Library


112

“NOT UNCLOTHED, BUT CLOTHED UPON.”

Oh, not unclothed, my heart recoils from this,
And turns all trembling from the loathsome grave!
But to be clothed upon, ah, this were bliss,
And this, O God, I crave!
I love this happy life and all its joys,
I love the sunshine, and the warmth, and light,—
The summer woods, the river's rippling voice,
And all things fair and bright.
I love the song of birds in leafy trees,
That sit and warble sweetly all the day;
I love to catch the whispers of the breeze
As through the boughs they play.
I love the bleat of lambs amongst the hills,
The hum upon the wind of passing bee;
To hear the lark which all the silence fills
With thrilling melody.

113

'Tis sweet to stray through fields where flowrets blow,
Or wander thro' the meadows, cool and green,
To watch the shadows as they come and go
Across the starlight keen.
'Tis sweet to see affection's beaming look,
The smile of ready love, unbribed, unbought;
To read as in a fair and open book,
Each pure and holy thought.
I still would feel a wife's and child's embrace,
The clasp of friendly hand strong, staunch, and true;
And gaze into a loving, gentle face,
As now I fondly do.
I would not be unclothed; I would not die,
Wept for a space, perhaps, with bitter tear;
Then mouldering in the lonely grave, to lie
Forgotten, tho' so near;
Out in the cold, when warm fires burn and glow,
And happy faces gather round the hearth,
And peals of merry laughter come and go,
Whilst I lie deep in earth.

114

Oh, not unclothed! my God, save me, I pray,
From the dire sting and bitterness of death!
O come Thyself, and bring the Advent day,
Whilst yet I draw my breath!
Oh, not unclothed, but rather clothed upon,
With that immortal house Thou hast in store,
When the frail earthly tent is taken down,
And laid by evermore!
Oh, for the lot of that great Saint of old,
Who in the body went to be with Thee,
Rapt on a sudden to the heavenly fold,
From death set ever free!
Take me like him for whom the burning car
Swept down the firmament with splendour bright,
Gliding along the sky like some fair star,
And flashing on the sight.
But if this may not be, and die I must,—
If over me the solemn words be said,
“Ashes to ashes, dust to kindred dust,”
Then, Lord, be with Thy dead! Amen.