For in the consummation blest

Of every wish and prayer,
He to his Father's courts ascends,
And finds a mansion there.

But yet, oh friend, revered and blest,
Who from our arms this day
Hast risen to gain thy perfect rest
In realms of cloudless day,
Though faith reveals thee to our view
From every sorrow free,

How shall we check the bursting tear
That wildly flows for thee?

Self-sacrificing, upright, pure,

Of feeble hope the guide,
With judgment clear, a soul subdued,
And wealth without its pride,

The widow in her lowly cell

Must long thy loss deplore,

The orphans wait thy step in vain,
Thou comest to them no more.

The path of duty and of zeal,

Who now, like thee shalt tread?

And deeply for ourselves we mourn
That thou art of the dead.

cry,

BEHOLD the babe, with ceaseless

Just entering on mortality.

Oh Saviour! thou for whom wert spread, 'Mid wondering brutes, the manger-bed, With pity view its feeble strife,

And fan the trembling spark of life.

The boy, with giddy footsteps, strays Through hidden Danger's devious maze;