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He, who implor'd with zeal divine,
A blessing on this great design,
Now sleeps in dust; and sad we bend
To mourn the pastor and the friend.
Yet, oh! if angels cloth'd in light,
E'er hover round this vale of night;
If mortal wanderings ever prove
Their watchful glance of guardian love;
Perchance, he views his earthly home,
This lonely flock, this holy dome,
And while our humble prayers arise,
Aids with his harp the sacrifice.
But who can speak his boundless joys,
When those who heard their Shepherd's voice,
Shall meet him in a world of rest,
And join the spirits of the blest.
HYMN Third.
YE happy, rescued throng,
Escap'd from gathering night,
Who mourn'd in darkness long,
While all around was light,
- As through the cloud
- The day-star gleams,
- Oh! love the hand
- That gave its beams.
And ye whose soften'd souls
Each generous feeling prove,
Whose prayers and labours aid
This ministry of love;
- Jehovah's name
- Conspire to raise;
- His was the work,
- Be his the praise.
Finis.
