Weep for yourselves-with "godly sorrow" weep, But not for those who in their Saviour sleep; Their conflicts now are past-their sorrows o'er, They shout for gladness, and shall weep no more.
Heaven calls, and can we yet delay ?
Can ought on earth engage our stay?
Shall we still linger here on earth,
And dote on things of little worth?
O God forbid,-let grace divine,
Secure our hearts for ever thine.
Traveller! in the narrow way,
Improve each moment of thy day,
Lest thou shouldst lose the glorious prize,
Thy God hath set before thine eyes.
When the spirit of our Father fled,
What tears were o'er his memory shed!
Children, and friends, and neighbours wept,
Of such a Christian friend bereft ;
Whose life did show his faith sincere,
Whose death did prove his God was near.
Boast not, O Death! the victory and prize,
Poor is thy triumph when a Christian dies,
Thy mortal dart assailed the saint in vain,
To whom to live was Christ, to die is gain.
It was so suddenly I fell,
My neighbours started at my knell,
Amazed, that I should be no more,
The man they'd seen the day before.
But what security is breath,
Against the uplifted hand of death?
Not one is safe,-not one secure,
Not one can call his moment's sure;
Be wise, and let that holy path be daily trod,
In which, without surprise, a man may meet his God.
Look to that world, where every pain shall cease,
Grief turn to joy, and labour end in peace;
Oh seek that world by penitence and prayer,
Sow the seed here, and reap the fruitage there,
Where shadowy joys no longer cheat the soul,
But one unclouded year in changeless light shall roll.
What, though a banker rich in wealth,
My riches could not purchase health ;
Nor for my life a ransom pay,
When death did summons me away.
No treasures then have any worth,
But riches of celestial birth.
"Go, work to-day in my vineyard."
thy pulse may be still, and there is "no work, nor wisdom, in the grave."
Let reason vainly boast her power,
To teach her children how to die:
The sinner in a dying hour,
Needs more than reason can supply.
A Saviour's love, a Saviour's power,
Alone can cheer him in that hour.
He set his face in early youth,
To tread the path of sacred truth :
No wonder, then, the way he trod
Led him in peace, to meet his God.
My days were prolonged,
To feeble old age;
And what was my staff?
The life giving page.—
It taught me to pray,
It caused me to hope,
It made me rejoice,
In Jesus my King.
* Under this head, with three or four exceptions, the Epitaphs are
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