30
poems.
THE CHRISTIAN'S DEATH.
"The chamber, where the good man meets his fate,
Is privileged beyond the common walk
Of virtuous life."Young.
Is privileged beyond the common walk
Of virtuous life."Young.
Silence is here;
That deep, unbroken stillness which pervades
The chamber, hallowed by the Christian's death.
Around that couch, where lies the feeble frame,
Are guardian angels, hovering to catch
His breath, and on their bright and golden wings,
To waft his spirit to its native heaven.
No thought of mortal joys comes in to break
The hushed repose of this most holy hour.
Oh! can aught bind him to a fleeting world,
Whose hopes are centred on immortal bliss?
That deep, unbroken stillness which pervades
The chamber, hallowed by the Christian's death.
Around that couch, where lies the feeble frame,
Are guardian angels, hovering to catch
His breath, and on their bright and golden wings,
To waft his spirit to its native heaven.
No thought of mortal joys comes in to break
The hushed repose of this most holy hour.
Oh! can aught bind him to a fleeting world,
Whose hopes are centred on immortal bliss?
Yet there are ties which link his soul to earth;
Those sacred sympathies which God has given,
Those sweet affections, binding man to man.
The Christian views those sad and weeping ones;
To those fond objects of his tender love,
He clings with love's enduring faithfulness.
Can he not break those hallowed ties, and feel
That though the parting hour has come to him,
There is beyond life's transient, varied things,
Rest for the "pure in heart?"
Those sacred sympathies which God has given,
Those sweet affections, binding man to man.
The Christian views those sad and weeping ones;
To those fond objects of his tender love,
He clings with love's enduring faithfulness.
Can he not break those hallowed ties, and feel
That though the parting hour has come to him,
There is beyond life's transient, varied things,
Rest for the "pure in heart?"
