Page:The works of Anne Bradstreet in prose and verse.djvu/453

 To the Memory of her Father. 367

His thoughts were more liiblime, his actions wife,

Such vanityes he juftly did defpife.

Nor wonder 'twas, low things ne'r much did move

For he a Manfion had, prepared above,

For which he iigh'd and pray'd & long'd full fore

He might be cloath'd upon, for evermore.

Oft fpake of death, and with a fmiling chear, [219]

He did exult his end was drawing near,

Now fully ripe, as fhock of wheat that's grown.

Death as a Sickle hath him timely mown.

And in celeftial Barn hath hous'd him high,

Where ftorms, nor fhowrs, nor ought can damnifie.

His Generation ferv'd, his labours ceafe;

And to his Fathers gathered is in peace.

Ah happy Soul, 'mongft Saints and Angel s bleft,

Who after all his toyle, is now at reft:

His hoary head in righteoufnefs was found:

As joy in heaven on earth let praife refound.

Forgotten never be his memory.

His blelling reft on his pofterity:

His pious Footfteps followed by his race,

At laft will bring us to that happy place

Where we with joy each others face fhall fee.

And parted more by death Ihall never be.

His Epitaph.

Within this Tomb a Patriot lyes That was both pious^jtijl and wife.,

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