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24
POEMS on
Great Counteſs,[1] we Americans revere
Thy name, and mingle in thy grief ſincere;
New England deeply feels, the Orphans mourn,40
Their more than father will no more return.
But, though arreſted by the hand of death,
Whitefield no more exerts his lab'ring breath,
Yet let us view him in th' eternal ſkies,
Let ev'ry heart to this bright viſion riſe;45
While the tomb ſafe retains its ſacred truſt,
Till life divine re-animates his duſt.
- ↑ The Counteſs of Huntingdon, to whom Mr. Whitefield was Chaplain.
On