Poems (Hale)/The Christian's Death
THE CHRISTIAN'S DEATH.
"The chamber, where the good man meets his fate,Is privileged beyond the common walkOf virtuous life."Young.
Silence is here;That deep, unbroken stillness which pervadesThe chamber, hallowed by the Christian's death.Around that couch, where lies the feeble frame,Are guardian angels, hovering to catchHis breath, and on their bright and golden wings,To waft his spirit to its native heaven.No thought of mortal joys comes in to breakThe hushed repose of this most holy hour.Oh! can aught bind him to a fleeting world,Whose hopes are centred on immortal bliss?
Yet there are ties which link his soul to earth;Those sacred sympathies which God has given,Those sweet affections, binding man to man.The Christian views those sad and weeping ones;To those fond objects of his tender love,He clings with love's enduring faithfulness.Can he not break those hallowed ties, and feelThat though the parting hour has come to him,There is beyond life's transient, varied things,Rest for the "pure in heart?"
But now a brightAnd glorious vision bursts upon his eye.Meekly prepared to meet his Master's will,Whate'er that will may be, his eye upraisedWith filial confidence in God's decrees,He whispers to those dear ones with a voice,Attuned with heaven's own tones, to heavenly strains.
"Weep not! though for a time, the grave may hideMy mouldering form from your embrace, my soulIn everlasting realms shall dwell; mine eye,Undimmed by all that now obstructs its sight,Shall view you, as you struggle on with life,With all its varied griefs and empty cares,And when its pangs are o'er, shall welcome youTo an immortal home."
Life is extinct.Hear ye no strains of heavenly melody?See ye no seraph wings of hovering forms,With golden harps attuned to blissful strains,To welcome the redeemed one to his home?