Poems By Henry Nutcombe Oxenham. Third Edition |
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| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
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| XXXIX. |
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| XLIX. | XLIX.
REQUIEM ÆTERNAM. |
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132
XLIX. REQUIEM ÆTERNAM.
To die, and be at rest
Beneath the churchyard sod,
The corpse in cere-cloths drest,
The spirit with its God.
Beneath the churchyard sod,
The corpse in cere-cloths drest,
The spirit with its God.
To die, and be at rest,
Lapped in ethereal fires,
Nor sight nor thought unblest
To kindle base desires.
Lapped in ethereal fires,
Nor sight nor thought unblest
To kindle base desires.
To die, and be at rest
Beyond the world's annoy,
No cares to vex the breast,
No tears to trouble joy.
Beyond the world's annoy,
No cares to vex the breast,
No tears to trouble joy.
To die, and be at rest
Where slander's tongue is still,
Where praise nor mars our best
Nor consecrates our ill.
Where slander's tongue is still,
Where praise nor mars our best
Nor consecrates our ill.
133
To die, and be at rest
Where earthly tumults cease,
Where storms may ne'er infest
The haven of our peace.
Where earthly tumults cease,
Where storms may ne'er infest
The haven of our peace.
To die, and be at rest
With them that part no more,
Rocked gently on the breast
Of loved ones gone before.
With them that part no more,
Rocked gently on the breast
Of loved ones gone before.
To die, and be at rest
Beyond the power of sin,
Love an abiding Guest
The ransomed soul within.
Beyond the power of sin,
Love an abiding Guest
The ransomed soul within.
To die, and be at rest,
For this our natures crave,
The last home of the blest,
The world beyond the grave.
For this our natures crave,
The last home of the blest,
The world beyond the grave.
To die, and be at rest,
'Tis childhood's earliest dream,
In terror unexprest
Shrinking from life's dark stream.
'Tis childhood's earliest dream,
In terror unexprest
Shrinking from life's dark stream.
134
To die, and be at rest,
'Tis manhood's bitter cry,
With thankless toils opprest
Of wasted energy.
'Tis manhood's bitter cry,
With thankless toils opprest
Of wasted energy.
To die, and be at rest,
Old age with feeble moan
Echoes the long request
To lay its burden down.
Old age with feeble moan
Echoes the long request
To lay its burden down.
To die, and be at rest,
It is a Christian prayer,
For death is God's behest,
Christ and His Saints are there.
It is a Christian prayer,
For death is God's behest,
Christ and His Saints are there.
| Poems | |