His was the upright deed,
His the unswerving course,
'Mid every thwarting current's force,
Unchanged by venal aim, or flattery's hollow reed:
The holy truth walked ever by his side,
And in his bosom dwelt, companion, judge, and guide.
But when disease revealed
To his unclouded eye
The stern destroyer standing nigh,
Where turned he for a shield?
Wrapt he the robe of stainless rectitude
Around his breast to meet cold Jordan's flood?
Grasped he the staff of pride
His steps through death's dark vale to guide?
Ah no! self-righteousness he cast aside,
Clasping, with firm and fearless faith, the cross of Him who died.
Serene, serene,
He pressed the crumbling verge of this terrestrial scene,
Breathed soft, in childlike trust,
The parting groan,
Gave back to dust its dust—
To heaven its own.
Page:Poems Sigourney, 1834.pdf/286
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THOUGHTS AT THE FUNERAL OF A FRIEND.
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