69. Wouldst thou be purged from pollution, "the blood of Christ cleanseth from all sin." 70. "The soldier tir'd of war's alarms" A crown of life, and with his Saviour reigns. 71. Judge not thy hopes by what they now appear: What will their worth be when thou liest here? 72. O, passing stranger, call this not I love to linger o'er the spot- Here morning sunbeams brightly glow; And here the moonbeam shines; While all unconsciously below My slumbering babe reclines. His little waxen rosy face I know will soon decay, And every charm, and every grace, But when the sun and moon shall fade, My baby shall arise, In brighter beams than theirs array'd, And reign above the skies. 73. The lowly tenant of this tomb In life a thousand snares surprise; 'Twas his, alas! in evil hour To see the storm around him lower, When every tongue was prompt to pour Reproach upon his name. Still let thy anger be repress'd: 74. Say, hast thou revolv'd, in reflection deep, 75. The grave is not a place for blame, and yet we cannot raise O'er every tenant of the tomb the tribute of our praise: Didst thou but know the mournful tale of her who moulders here, Then soft regret would mingle with thine unavailing tear. 76. Be humble and think on the truth that the grave Proud man is at best a poor handful of earth 77. If, Reader, thou art repentant, hope and rejoice. "To the Lord our God belong mercies and forgivenesses, though we have rebelled against him." If thou art rebellious, fear and tremble, for verily our God is a consuming fire." 66 78. He was suddenly summoned hence; but his lamp was trimmed, and his light burning. 79. Wouldst thou be bless'd, plume thy aspiring wings, And seek with all thy soul eternal things. All worldly bliss is but an empty breath, 80. How soon shall Satan's realm of dark despair Be lit with hope? O never! never! never! How long shall sinners dwell in torment there? For ever! and for ever! and for ever! 81. He looked on life as on a picture; found it excellent in design, and passing fair in execution, but painted with colours that faded fast away. The sky was clear, the foreground rich in its tints, the figures around him admirably grouped; but his quick eye discovered Death in the distance. Depressed by the discovery, and sighing for immortality, he laid down his pallet and pencil, and sought celestial scenes, whose prospects are not disfigured by Death, and whose brilliant colours will endure for ever. 82. His record is on high. 83. How gladly would the illustrious dead that lie Enshrin'd in pomp, and pride, and pageantry, Could they look back and mark with thoughtful brow The littleness of all things here below;— |