|
|
On The Death Of Dr Burgess, The Late Bishop Of Salisbury.
By William Lisle Bowles
Sainted old man, for more than eighty years,
Thee - tranquilly and stilly-creeping - age,
Led to the confines of the sepulchre,
And thy last day on earth - but "Father - Lord -
Which art in heaven" - how pure a faith, and heart
Unmoved, amid the changes of this life,
And tumult of the world, - and oh! what hope, -
What love and constancy of the calm mind,
And tears to misery from the inmost heart
Flowing - at times, a brief sweet smile and voice
How bland, and studies, various and profound,
Of learned languages - but, ever first,
That learning which the oracles of God
Unfolds, even to the close of life's long day
Thy course accompanies!
But, thou, farewell,
And live - this mortal veil removed - in bliss;
Live with the saints in light, whom Christ had loved.
But pardon us, left in this vale of tears,
For one last tear upon thy cold remains -
Pardon, beloved and venerated shade!
Extra Info:
|
|
Printable Page
Add Your Thoughts on this poem.
This page viewed 188 times.
|
|
