Page:Moral Pieces in Prose and Verse.pdf/278

 Unseal my eyes, dispel the powers that keep The cold, dull heart in this perpetual sleep; Let thy blest name awake my warmest praise, Thy presence awe me, and thy comforts raise, Thy Spirit cleanse, thy grace destroy my sin, Thy mercy soothe me when my days decline, Thine arm support me on that chilling flood Which shuts my mourning soul from Heaven and God.

Oh, place before my eyes in sad array The solemn scenes of that departing day. The withered form, the weak and powerless hand, The chill, cold drops that on the temples stand, The faint, lost voice, the long and bursting sigh, The last light fading from the started eye, The slow, deep groan by racking torture wrung, The last, sad dirge by trembling mourner's sung, The ghastly cheek, the heaving bosom pain'd, The heart-strings rent, the nerve of anguish strain'd, The death-dews resting on the stiffen'd form, The ready pit, the darkness, and the worm!

Ev'n at this distant view my spirits fade, And life's quick pulse moves fluttering and afraid; But hark! a secret sound is in my ear, "Fear not (it seems to say,) for I am near; For tho' this form of clay may sink in pain, From earth first drawn, and bound to earth again,