to the memory of ebenezer bailey, esq.
141
When the dark hour has passed,
Of earthly wo the last,
And the soul quits its prison-house of clay,—
Thou! to whom Death must bow,;
Great King of kings! wilt Thou
Receive my spirit to eternal day?
Of earthly wo the last,
And the soul quits its prison-house of clay,—
Thou! to whom Death must bow,;
Great King of kings! wilt Thou
Receive my spirit to eternal day?
A TRIBUTE TO THE MEMORY OF EBENEZER BAILEY, ESQ. LATE PRINCIPAL OF THE YOUNG LADIES' HIGH SCHOOL, BOSTON.
When from our side the good are snatched away,
Like morning flowers that fade at close of day,
How yearns the heart, though prostrate in its wo,
Affection's last fond tribute to bestow!
For precious then the faintest sigh will be,
Breathed to the good man's hallowed memory.
But when the thoughts of childhood's budding years,
Its blending light and shade, its hopes, its fears,
Around the heart their silent influence shed,
And mingle with our sorrow for the dead,
Though Love may rear the altar, pure, divine,
Yet gratitude bends willing at the shrine.
Like morning flowers that fade at close of day,
How yearns the heart, though prostrate in its wo,
Affection's last fond tribute to bestow!
For precious then the faintest sigh will be,
Breathed to the good man's hallowed memory.
But when the thoughts of childhood's budding years,
Its blending light and shade, its hopes, its fears,
Around the heart their silent influence shed,
And mingle with our sorrow for the dead,
Though Love may rear the altar, pure, divine,
Yet gratitude bends willing at the shrine.
Thus hath it been with thee, thou friend revered!
Whose genial aid my days of childhood cheered.
Whose genial aid my days of childhood cheered.
