150
SONNET,ON THE DEATH OF THE REV. H. MARTYN.
Young Martyr! who with fixed and heavenly heart
The fondest ties of home and country tore,
And sought with weeping eyes a foreign shore,
Immortal hopes and comforts to impart
To beings sat in darkness—toil and pain
And sickness could not move thee—for the light
Of Christian joy was beaming on thy sight,
And even disappointment's shaft was vain,
To change thy generous purpose;—yes, 't was thine
In distant climes to breathe a Saviour's name,
Immortal life, and its pure trust proclaim,
And bid the Sun of glory on them shine,
And though thy virtues met a tuneless doom,
Yet Christian tears shall oft embalm thy tomb.
The fondest ties of home and country tore,
And sought with weeping eyes a foreign shore,
Immortal hopes and comforts to impart
To beings sat in darkness—toil and pain
And sickness could not move thee—for the light
Of Christian joy was beaming on thy sight,
And even disappointment's shaft was vain,
To change thy generous purpose;—yes, 't was thine
In distant climes to breathe a Saviour's name,
Immortal life, and its pure trust proclaim,
And bid the Sun of glory on them shine,
And though thy virtues met a tuneless doom,
Yet Christian tears shall oft embalm thy tomb.
