Poems (Douglas)/Shrink not from Death

by Sarah Parker Douglas

Shrink not from Death.

Shrink not, poor dying one, from Death's cold hand,
 In friendship stretched to lead thee from the strife
Of tossing billows, from the shoals and sand,
 And all the perils of the sea of life.

Though wrapt in deep, impenetrable gloom,
 The path which leads thee, trembler, from thy woes,
Fear not; it is the Cross which o'er the tomb
 Its saving shadow in the stillness throws.

What! hast thou strayed from virtue's pathway wide,
 Poor child of error! and did man condemn,
And from the contrite sinner turn with pride?
 Look up: thou hast no more to do with them.

More merciful's thy Judge; have faith, nor fear
 To take the final leave of time, and pain;
Repentance stained thine eye with many a tear,
 And who would dare to say they flowed in vain?

Fear not the tomb, that sanctuary sure
 From all life's weariness, and snares, and woes;
On thine earth pillow thou shalt rest secure,
 Thine eyes all tearless in their sealed repose.

Unfelt by thee, the summer suns may glance,
 Or tempests howl, throughout the long dark night;
No foe shall rouse thee from thy dreamless trance,
 Nor waken throbs of anguish or affright.