THE DEATH OF THE RIGHTEOUS. 219 THE DEATH OF THE RIGHTEOUS. "I heard a voice from heaven saying unto me, Write, Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord from henceforth."-Revelation xiv. 13. How blest the righteous when he dies! How mildly beam the closing eyes So fades a summer cloud away; So sinks the gale when storms are o'er; Esus saith unto her, Thy brother shall rise again. God hath both raised up the Lord, and will also raise up us by his own power. for this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality. So when this corruptible shall habe put on incorruption, and this mortal shall habe put on immortality, then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written, Death is swallowed up in victory. death, where is thy sting? O grabe, where is thy bictory? The sting of death is sin: and the strength of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, which gibeth us the bictory through our Lord Jesus Christ. Not for that we would be unclothed, but clothed upon, that mortality might be swallowed up of life. When Christ, who is our life, shall appear, then shall ye also appear with Him in glory. INDEX OF FIRST LINES OF POETRY. Abashed be all the boast of age Be it a weakness, it deserves some praise. Between two breaths, what crowded mysteries lie! . But, ever and anon, of griefs subdued Mrs. Sigourney. Cheeks as soft as July peaches Come, while the blossoms of the years are brightest W. G. Clark Daughter, the Book Divine. Dear Chloe, while the busy crowd Edith! ten years are numbered, since the day Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness Group after group are gathering, such as prest Hail, young disciple !-thou whose early feet. He that holds fast the golden mean High thoughts at first, and visions high. How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth. Southey Shakespeare. Shakespeare. Mrs. Sigourney. Mrs. Barbauld. 104 How poor! how rich! how abject! how august. . Young I fear the shame I must incur, forgetting Howard's Cowper name . I have a son, a little son, a boy just five years old Moultrie . I love to look on a scene like this I mourn no more my vanished years. If thou dost truly seek to live . In all my wanderings round this world of care In the same brook none ever bathed him twice. It is a beauteous evening, calm and free It is not growing like a tree It was an eve of Autumn's holiest mood Jesus, our gentle Shepherd, see Lift not thou the wailing voice Like as the damask rose you see. 143 43 Wordsworth. 73 Like to the falling of a star "Live while you live" the Epicure would say Lord, thou hast given me a cell. Lord, who ordainest for mankind Lord, who would live turmoilèd in the court. Maiden! with the meek, brown eyes Oh! ever loving, lovely and beloved! O my coevals! remnants of yourselves! . INDEX OF FIRST LINES OF POETRY. 223 Oh! the day is very bright, father, as lovely as the One of this mood I do remember well. On this side, and on that, men see their friends. Our sighs were numerous, and profuse our tears Patriots have toiled, and in their country's cause Sailing upon life's dangerous sea She dwelt among the untrodden ways Slow glides the Nile: amid the margin flags So live, that when thy summons comes to join Stand but your ground, your ghostly foes will fly Tell me not in mournful numbers The baby wept . . The band of Commerce was designed The boy stood on the burning deck The wanton troopers, riding by 189 Th' unbusied shepherd stretched beneath the hawthorn This is a curl of our poor Splendid's hair There is a reaper, whose name is Death Mrs. Hemans Waller Mrs. Hemans |