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Low bowed Thy head convulsed, and, drooped in death,
Thy voice sent forth a sad and wailing cry;

Slow struggled from Thy breast the parting breath,
And every limb was wrung with agony.

That head, whose veilless blaze

Filled angels with amaze,

When at that voice sprang forth the rolling suns on high.

And Thou wert laid within the narrow tomb,

Thy clay-cold limbs with shrouding grave-clothes bound;

The sealed stone confirmed Thy mortal doom,
Lone watchmen walked thy desert burial-ground;
Whom heaven could not contain,

Nor th' immeasurable plain

Of vast Infinity inclose or circle round.

For us, for us, Thou didst endure the pain,
And Thy meek spirit bowed itself to shame,
To wash our souls from sin's infecting stain,
T'avert the Father's wrathful vengeance flame :
Thou, that couldst nothing win

By saving worlds from sin,

Nor aught of glory add to Thy all-glorious name.


BROTHER, thou art gone before us,
And thy saintly soul is flown
Where tears are wiped from every eye,

And sorrow is unknown:
From the burthen of the flesh,

And from care and fear released,
Where the wicked cease from troubling,

And the weary are at rest.

The toilsome way thou'st travelled o'er,
And borne the heavy load,

But Christ hath taught thy languid feet
To reach his blest abode.

Thou'rt sleeping now, like Lazarus

Upon his father's breast,

Where the wicked cease from troubling,

And the weary are at rest,

Sin can never taint thee now,

Nor doubt thy faith assail,

Nor thy meek trust in Jesus Christ
And the Holy Spirit fail.

And there thou'rt sure to meet the good,
Whom on earth thou lovedst best,
Where the wicked cease from troubling,
And the weary are at rest.

"Earth to earth," and "Dust to dust,"

The solemn priest hath said,

So we lay the turf above thee now,
And we seal thy narrow bed:

But thy spirit, brother, soars away
Among the faithful blest,

Where the wicked cease from troubling,

And the weary are at rest.

And when the Lord shall summon us,
Whom thou hast left behind,
May we, untainted by the world,

As sure a welcome find;

May each, like thee, depart in peace,

To be a glorious guest,

Where the wicked cease from troubling,

And the weary are at rest.



THE wind blows chill across those gloomy waves,
Oh! how unlike the green and dancing main!
The surge is foul as if it rolled o'er graves ;-
Stranger, here lie the cities of the plain!

Yes, on that plain, by wild waves covered now,
Rose palace once, and sparking pinnacle.
On pomp and spectacle beamed morning's glow,
On pomp and festival the twilight fell.

Lovely and splendid all,-but Sodom's soul

Was stained with blood, and pride, and perjury. Long warned, long spared, till her whole heart was foul, And fiery vengeance on its clouds came nigh!

And still she mocked, and danced, and taunting, spoke Her sportive blasphemies against the Throne.

It came the thunder on her slumber broke :

God spake the word of wrath! Her dream was done.

Yet, in her final night, amid her stood

Immortal messenger, and pausing Heaven Pleaded with man, but she was quite imbued,

Her last hour waned, she scorned to be forgiven.

'Twas done!-down pour'd at once the sulphurous shower, Down stoop'd, in flame, the heaven's red canopy. Oh! for the arm of God in that fierce hour!'Twas vain, nor help of God or man was nigh.

They rush, they bound, they howl, the men of sin;-
Still stoop'd the cloud, still burst the thicker blaze;
The earthquake heaved!-then sank the hideous din !
Yon wave of darkness o'er their ashes strays.

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