Page:Grave, a poem, or, A view of life, death and immortality.pdf/24

 And each ſhall have his own. Hence ye profane, Aſk not how this can be? ---Sure the same pow'r That rear'd the piece at firſt, and took it down, Can re-aſſemble the loose ſcatter'd parts; And put them as they were. ---Almighty GOD Has done much more ---nor is his arm impair'd Thro' length of days ---And what he can, he will: His faithfulneſs ſtands bound to ſee it done. When the dread trumpet ſounds, the ſlumb'ring dust, (Not inattentive to the call.) ſhall wake, And ev'ry joint poſſeſs its proper place, With a new elegance of form, unknown To its firſt ſtate. Nor ſhall the conſcious ſoul Miſtake its partner, but amidſt the crowd, Singling its other half, into its arms Shall ruſh, with all th'impatience of a man That's new come home, who having long been abſent, With haſte runs over ev'ry different room, In pain to ſee the whole.---Thrice happy meeting Nor time, nor death, hall ever part them more.

'Tis but a night, a long and moonleſs night, We make the grave our bed, and then are gone.

, at the ſhut of ev'n, the weary bird Leaves the wide air, and in ſome lonely brake Cow'rs down, and dozes till the dawn of day, Then claps his well fledg'd wings, and bears away,