On the Burial of a Child
Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord.
Rev. xiv. 13.
Lo! now the victory’s gain’d me,
And here my journey ends;
For parting tears that pain’d me,
I now have full amends:
Dear friends! because I leave you,
Be not so sore distrest;
For what indeed should grieve you?
I’m happy and at rest.
Away! all grief and sadness,
Henceforth away from me!
My heart o’erflows with gladness,
That I am now set free:
Now thousand joys I borrow
From my Creator’s hand;
And this world’s pain and sorrow
Come not in that fair land.
They whom the earth yet captures,
Who rove as pilgrims still,
But faint can lisp the raptures
Eternity which fill:
To die in God is better
Than in the world to live;
Now sin can no more fetter,
No frailties pain can give.
Then strew my bier with flowers,
As ’twere a conqueror’s car;
I’ve gain’d from vernal bowers,
That bloom in heaven afar,
A crown that ne’er shall wither;
And he who ever lives,
God’s Son, who bears me thither,
The victor’s chaplet gives.
My father, where I’m sleeping,
To pierce the darkness tries;
My mother stands by weeping,
And turns away her eyes:
But though your hearts are breaking,
And anguish whelms you o’er,
Now heavenly comfort seeking,
Dear parents! weep no more.
A little while but lent you,
Now God has called me home;
Therefore no more lament you
Because my hour is come:
But say, “the Lord has given,
Then let Him take away;”
God wills our fate in heaven,
We must his will obey.
This shews how frail our state is,
That you my grave must see;
From God’s own hand my fate is,
A Father’s hand to me:
Then comfort take, and think not
Too soon I yield my breath;
For they too early sink not,
Who please their God in death.
To join God’s seraph-legions
Blest soul! speed on your flight;
We, in these mournful regions,
Know nought of your delight:
But though awhile you leave us,
When dawns that glorious ray,
With joy you’ll then receive us!
Oh! might it be to-day!