59
Finished thy work, and kept thy faith
In Christian firmness unto death:
And beautiful, as sky and earth,
When Autumn's sun is downward going,
The blessed memory of thy worth
Around thy place of slumber glowing!
But, wo for us! who linger still
With feebler strength and hearts less lowly,
And minds less steadfast to the will
Of Him, whose every work is holy!
For not like thine, is crucified
The spirit of our human pride:
And, at the bondsman's tale of wo,
And, for the outcast and the forsaken,
Not warm like thine, but cold and slow,
Our weaker sympathies awaken!
Darkly upon our struggling way
The storm of human hate is sweeping;
Hunted and branded, and a prey,
Our watch amidst the darkness keeping!
Oh! for that hidden strength which can
Nerve unto death the inner man!
Oh! for thy spirit tried and true,
And constant in the hour of trial—
Prepared to suffer, or to do,
In meekness and in self-denial.
