In Tennessee, across the wide Atlantic,
There rests the clay
Of one who bore the image of his Master—
Long passed away.
A lonely grave, with few to stand beside it,
To shed a tear,
Although to the oppressed of many a nation
His name was dear.
Beneath that massive form a heart was bleeding
For all earth’s woe,
Till the strained tension burst the clay-built dwelling,
And laid it low.
But angels, hovering o’er, on snow white pinions,
Their loved to greet,
Bore the freed soul with joyful hallelujahs
To Christ’s own feet.
.mw-parser-output .wst-asterisks{display:block;margin:auto;text-align:center}......
In England’s stately, world-renowned Walhalla,
A mournful train
Of great and noble meet, while—slowly—slowly—
A dirge-like strain—
A funeral anthem in the grand old Abbey,
Far-off, yet near,
Floats on the air—Hush ! stand all ye uncovered,—
Room for the bier!
Silence—deep silence—for the dead is coming
In deathly state.
Ah! what is life? Before that kingly sceptre
Earth’s proudest wait.
Yet speak those floral wreaths of resurrection—
Not born to die—
The mortal perishes, but the immortal
Mounts up on high.
The fixed heroic aim, the will unswerving,
True to the line,
Not earth-born, but a glorious emanation
Of the divine.
These cannot pass away, and still thou livest
Among thy peers,
Thy name a banner-cry to all the noble,
Through coming years.
......
“Dust unto dust.” Mid nature’s lonely wildness
A kindred band
Around a simple grave in his own Wharfedale
In silence stand.
Make way—make way, and let the long procession
Pass on—pass on—
One of yourselves, ye toiling sons of England,
To rest has gone.
One of yourselves, your ever-honoured Master;
Yet more—your Friend;
Yes, mourn ye may, ye will not find his fellow
Till time shall end.
But lift your thoughts above this narrow casket,
He is not there—
Of all Eternity’s untold resources
The chosen heir!
And meet it is with tears that praise should mingle;
On bended knee,
Hearts bowed with anguish raise their grateful tribute,
O Lord, to Thee;
Calling, from Time’s brief span, Thy servant higher,
To endless days,
Where, sire with son, in wider fields of service,
Blend work with praise.