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161.

This simple stone shall bear a simple line;-
Here lies a sinner sav'd by grace divine.

162.

If the actions of a good man can endear his memory, this stone will be often visited.

163.

Untaught with false and flattering rhymes to
dwell

On human praise, this stone shall simply tell,
That, mouldering underneath the silent sod,
Lies a true Christian, waiting for his God.

164.

The godly man has every thing to hope;
The ungodly every thing to fear.

165.

In widowhood she passed through the dark and troubled pathways of her pilgrimage, and sickness and sorrow were her companions: but her eye was fixed on the Star of Bethlehem; and its rays beamed brightly around her in life, and gilded the valley of the shadow of death.

166.

'Twas mercy eas'd my

troubled heart,

And rais'd my thoughts above;

And told me peace might yet be found
In my Redeemer's love.

Through all my joys and troubles past
Mercies have mark'd my way;
And still they gather'd round my path
With every opening day.

On earth I prais'd thee, O my God,
For mercies great and free;

And now, in realms of light and love,
My soul is full of thee.

167.

My Saviour call'd me, and, without a groan, I gave the spirit grace had made his own.

168.

Whate'er be thine honours, thy hope, and thy health,

Thy knowledge, thy wisdom, thy wit, and thy wealth;

Ere long o'er thine ashes the green grass shall

wave:

Ah, well mayst thou ponder, for I am the grave!

Thou canst not escape me: the aged and young, The wise and the foolish, the feeble and strong, The bold and the coward, the freeman and slave,

All, all are my victims, for I am the grave!

Come, take up thy cross, and sincerely begin
To turn heavenward thy face, and seek pardon
for sin:

Thy Saviour alone from destruction can save;
Despise not my warning, for I am the grave.

169.

Alas! how little power to man is given

To hand his greatness down to future time!
The proudest tomb in ruin shall be riven,
Though deck'd with marble, and adorn'd with
rhyme.

Weaken'd and wasted by the tempest rude,
The mighty pyramids themselves shall sever:
The man that's truly great is truly good;
His name, and his alone, shall live for ever.

170.

O! they were ever gentle found,
And lovely, fair, and bright;
Like sunlit clouds they mov'd around,

And bless'd our wondering sight.

But in the morning of their day

We saw a storm arise;

Like sunlit clouds they pass'd away,
And mingled with the skies.

171.

He had long felt that earth was not his rest, nor earthly objects his best portion.

172.

Seek now, that Christ thy guilty soul may save: For there is no repentance in the grave.

173.

Pilgrim to a world of gladness,
Christian, though thy lot be low,
Sorely tried with sin and sadness,
Take thy staff, and onward go.

Though thou suffer cold and hunger,
Pain and peril, want and woe,

Bear thy griefs a little longer;
Gird thy loins, and onward go.

Death is but a dreamless slumber;
God will heavenly joys bestow;
Joys that angels cannot number:

Onward, pilgrim-onward go.

174.

Our floweret was transplanted by an angel: the winged messenger of the Almighty loosened it from the soil wherein it grew, gently shook away the mould that clung around it, bore it to the regions of immortality, and planted it in the paradise of God.

175.

Sad and heavily wav'd his pall,

And mournful to us was his early fall;

Our salt tears fell, and our sighs we gave,

And we buried him low in the dark cold grave. In the dark cold grave we laid his head;

And here he reclines in his dusty bed,

Till the blast of the trumpet shall bid him arise, And angels shall bear him away to the skies.

176.

Here lies his calm, unruffled brow:

His fervent breast is lifeless now:
Those lips, which lov'd the truth to press
On every heart, are motionless.

In love and zeal his course he trod-
The hallow'd messenger of God:
Sought not to dazzle, but to win

The soul from error and from sin.

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