The shadows fall more soothing, the soft air Lives o'er thy funeral day; The deep knell dying down; the mourners' pause, Sure with the words of Heaven Thy spirit met us there, And sought with us along the accustomed way The pageant of sad joy, So dear to Faith and Hope. Oh, hadst thou brought a strain from Paradise More tenderly and true, Than those deep-warbled anthems, high and low, 25 Our mourning fancies wild, Till gently, like soft golden clouds at eve Around the western twilight, all subside Into a placid Faith, That e'en with beaming eye 30 Counts thy sad honours, coffin, bier, and pall: So many relics of a frail love lost, So many tokens dear 35 Of endless love begun. Listen! it is no dream: the Apostle's trump Gives earnest of the Archangel's: calmly now, Our hearts yet beating high To that victorious lay, 40 Most like a warrior's, to the martial dirge Our treasure for a while; And if a tear steal down, If human anguish o'er the shaded brow Pass shuddering, when the handful of pure earth If at our brother's name Once and again the thought, 'For ever gone,' Thou know'st us calm at heart. One look, and we have seen our last of thee, 45 50 Till we too sleep, and our long sleep be o'er : That countenance pure again, 55 Thou, who canst change the heart and raise the dead! As Thou art by to soothe our parting hour, Be ready when we meet With thy dear pardoning words. CCLIV THE SLEEP. 60 John Keble. Of all the thoughts of God that are Borne inward into souls afar, Along the Psalmist's music deep, For gift or grace surpassing this 5 'He giveth his beloved, sleep'? What would we give to our beloved? The monarch's crown to light the brows?— IO What do we give to our beloved? And bitter memories to make The whole earth blasted for our sake: He giveth his beloved, sleep. 'Sleep soft, beloved!' we sometimes say, Sad dreams that through the eyelids creep: Shall break the happy slumber, when O earth, so full of dreary noises ! O strife, O curse, that o'er it fall! Ay, men may wonder while they scan For me, my heart that erst did go 40 That sees through tears the mummers leap, 45 Would childlike on his love repose, Who giveth his belovèd, sleep. And friends, dear friends, when it shall be 50 And round my bier ye come to weep, Say, 'Not a tear must o'er her fall! 'He giveth his belovèd, sleep.' Elizabeth Barrett Browning. CCLV TO THE MEMORY OF MY VENERABLE GRANDFATHER-IN-LAW, SAMUEL MARTIN, WHO WAS TAKEN FROM US IN THE SIXTY-EIGHTH YEAR OF HIS MINISTRY. Fare well man's dark last journey o'er the deep,' Reared on thy knees with wisdom's heavenly food, Edward Irving. 5 IO CCLVI THE EVENING CLOUD. A cloud lay cradled near the setting sun; To whose white robe the gleam of bliss is given; CCLVII NIGHT AND DEATH. John Wilson. Mysterious Night! when our first parent knew 5 10 5 Bathed in the rays of the great setting flame, Who could have thought such darkness lay concealed Blanco White. ΙΟ |