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Their very memory is fair and bright,
And my sad thoughts doth clear.

It glows and glitters in my cloudy breast,
Like stars upon some gloomy grove,
Or those faint beams with which yon hill is drest
After the sun's remove.

I see them walking in an air of glory,
Whose light doth trample on my days;
My days, which are at best but dull and hoary,
Mere glimmerings and decays.

Dear beauteous death, the jewel of the just,
Shining no where but in the dark;
What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust,
Could man outlook that mark!



NAME them not dead-the faithful whom
Green earth closed lately o'er ;
Nor search within the silent tomb
For those who "die no more.'

The cold earth hides them from our love,
But not from His who pleads above.

They passed, as all must pass, the deep
Dread portals of the grave;

But not in dull decay they sleep
Whom Jesus died to save.


To mortal eye their path is dim;
But 'tis enough-they rest in Him.
We saw the momentary cloud,
The pale eclipse of mind,

From earthly sight that came to shroud
The deathless ray behind:

A moment more, the shade is gone,
The sun, the spirit, burneth on.

To die! 'tis but to pass, all free,
From Death's dominion here,—
To burst the bonds of earth, and flee
From every mortal fear,-

To plunge within that gulf untried,
And stand beyond it glorified.


Thou weep'st-perchance they weep for thee,
If heavenly tear can flow,
To think of all the ills that be

In this sad world below.

Oh! not for all its climes contain
Would they return to earth again.

Yet weep, for earth's a vale of care,
And they who mourn are blest,
If He who hears the mourner's prayer
Send comfort to the breast:

If hallowed hope break through the gloom,
Earth hath no teacher like the tomb.



RISE, said the Master; come unto the feast :—
She heard the call, and rose with willing feet;
But thinking it not otherwise than meet
For such a bidding to put on her best,
She is gone from us for a few short hours
Into her bridal-closet, there to wait
For the unfolding of the palace-gate,

That gives her entrance to the blissful bowers.
We have not seen her yet, though we have been
Full often to her chamber-door, and oft

Have listened underneath the postern green,
And laid fresh flowers, and whispered short and

But she hath made no answer, and the day
From the clear west is fading fast away.



Great New Street, Fetter Lane.


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