BARZILLAI THE GILEADITE.
Let me be buried by the grave of my father and of my mother.
2 Samuel, XIX. 37.
Son of Jesse!—let me go,
Why should princely honours stay me?—
Where the streams of Gilead flow,
Where the light first met mine eye,
Thither would I turn and die:—
Where my parent's ashes lie,
King of Israel!—bid them lay me.
Bury me near my sire revered,
Whose feet in righteous paths so firmly trod,
Who early taught my soul[1] with awe
To heed the Prophets and the Law,
And to my infant heart appeared
Majestic as a God:—
Oh! when his sacred dust
The cerements of the tomb shall burst,
Might I be worthy at his feet to rise,
To yonder blissful skies,
Where angel-hosts resplendent shine,
Jehovah!—Lord of Hosts, the glory shall be thine.
Cold age upon my breast
Hath shed a frost like death,
The wine-cup hath no zest,
The rose no fragrant breath,
- ↑ not sole, see errata
