From a Gravestone in Same Churchyard.
I've plodded through life's weary way,
In various callings of the day.
A ploughboy first in Suffolk born,
I turned straight furrows for the corn,
In days when farmers lodged their men,
And held their conduct under ken.
The squire's chariot next I drove;
By industry to rise I strove.
I then, alas! engaged an Inn,
Temptation strong to vice and sin.
Ere long I left the revel scene
For purer ways and more serene,
And village children next did train,
And aimed subjection to maintain
To God, to Parents, Pastors, Masters,
And guide them thus through life's disasters.
Now my works in death are ended,
Worthless all with error blended.
In penitence and faith, 0 Lord!
I lean on Christ, the Incarnate Word.
At the Archangel's thrilling blast,
Oh! take me to Thyself at last!