Poems (Edwards)/The Missionary's Burial at Sea
THE MISSIONARY'S BURIAL AT SEA.
He left his home, his own sweet home, He left his native land,He left the hearth he loved so well, For a home in a distant land;He left the eyes that round him shone With affection fond and pure,To carry the words of life and truth Away to a heathen shore.
He left his home, his native land, In manhood's cloudless prime,To dwell, a light to the heathen world, A star in their darkened clime;He has suffered long, he has suffered well, But the toils of life are o'er,And the pains, the ills, the fears of earth Will touch his heart no more.
As a star goes out in the morning light, As a dewdrop melts away,As the sunlight dies on the western hills, As floats the ocean spray;His soul passed up to its glorious home, Where all is bright and free,And they folded him up in a winding sheet And buried him in the sea.