VII. THE DEPARTED CHILD. ND haft thou fought thy heavenly home, The realms where forrow dare not come, Where life is joy? Pure at thy death as at thy birth, Defpair was in our last farewell, As closed thine eye; Cafa Wappy! Tears of our anguish may not tell When thou didst die; Words may not paint our grief for thee, Sighs are but bubbles on the fea Of our unfathomed agony, Cafa Wappy! Thou wert a vifion of delight, To bless us given; So dear to us thou wert, thou art, Of mine, and of thy mother's heart, Cafa Wappy! Thy bright brief day knew no decline, 'Twas cloudless joy; Sunrise and night alone were thine, This morn beheld thee blithe and gay, Gem of our hearth, our household pride, Could love have faved, thou hadst not died, Our dear, sweet child! Humbly we bow to fate's decree, Yet had we hoped that time should fee Thee mourn for us, not us for thee, Cafa Wappy! Do what I may, go where I will, There doft thou glide before me still - I feel thy breath upon my cheek, Cafa Wappy! Ev'n to the laft, thy every word, To glad, to grieve, Was sweet, as sweetest song of bird, K In outward beauty undecayed, Death o'er thy fpirit cast no shade, And like the rainbow thou didst fade, Cafa Wappy! We mourn for thee when blind blank night We pine for thee when morn's first light Reddens the hills: The fun, the moon, the stars, the fea, All, to the wall-flower and wild pea, Are changed; we faw the world through thee, Cafa Wappy! And though, perchance, a smile may gleam Of cafual mirth, It doth not own, whate'er may seem, An inward birth. We miss thy small step on the stair, We miss thee at thine evening prayer; Cafa Wappy! Snows muffled earth when thou didst go, In life's fpring-bloom, Down to the appointed house below— But The silent tomb. now the green leaves on the tree, The cuckoo, and "the bufy bee," Return-but with them bring not thee, Cafa Wappy! 'Tis fo; but can it be (while flowers Revive again) Man's doom, in death that we and ours Oh! can it be, that, o'er the grave, Yet God forget our child to fave? Cafa Wappy! It cannot be; for were it fo, Thus man could die, Life were a mockery- thought were woe And truth a lie; Heaven were a coinage of the brain Religion frenzy - virtue vain And all our hopes to meet again, Cafa Wappy! Yes, 'tis fweet balm to our despair, Fond, fairest boy, That Heaven is God's, and thou art there With Him in joy : There past are death and all its woes; And pleasure's day no funfet knows, Cafa Wappy! Farewell, then, for a while, farewell, Pride of my heart; It cannot be that long we dwell Thus torn apart: Time's fhadows like the fhuttle flee, Cafa Wappy! MOIR. VIII. THE PASTOR. IVE me the Priest these graces fhall Of an Ambaffador the first address; care; A Leader's courage, who the cross can bear; A Teacher's knowledge, and a Saviour's love. BISHOP KEN. IX. THE PASTOR. JOLINESS on the head d; Light and perfections on the breaft; Harmonious bells below, raifing the dead, To lead them unto life and reft ; Thus are true Aarons dreft. |