Poems (Hale)/The Christian's Death

by Mary Whitwell Hale

THE CHRISTIAN'S DEATH.

"The chamber, where the good man meets his fate,
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?

 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?"

But now a bright
And glorious vision bursts upon his eye.
Meekly prepared to meet his Master's will,
Whate'er that will may be, his eye upraised
With filial confidence in God's decrees,
He whispers to those dear ones with a voice,
Attuned with heaven's own tones, to heavenly strains.

 "Weep not! though for a time, the grave may hide
My mouldering form from your embrace, my soul
In everlasting realms shall dwell; mine eye,
Undimmed by all that now obstructs its sight,
Shall view you, as you struggle on with life,
With all its varied griefs and empty cares,
And when its pangs are o'er, shall welcome you
To an immortal home."

Life is extinct.
Hear ye no strains of heavenly melody?
See ye no seraph wings of hovering forms,
With golden harps attuned to blissful strains,
To welcome the redeemed one to his home?