Page:Poems Sigourney, 1834.pdf/63

62 And the torn heart-strings in her bleeding breast, —Come to the aged, he hath sorely trod Time's rugged road, until his staff is broke, And his feet palsied, and his friends all gone; Put thy cold finger on life's last faint spark, And scarcely gasping he shall follow thee. —Come to the saint, for he will meekly take Thy message to his soul, and welcome thee In Jesu's name, and bless the shadowy gate Which thou dost open. Wait awhile, Oh Death! For those who love this fleeting world too well, Wait, till it force their hearts to turn away From all its empty promises, and loathe Its deep hypocrisy. Oh! wait for those Who have not tasted yet of Heaven's high grace, Nor bring them to their audit, all unclothed With a Redeemer's righteousness.