28
Epitaphs for Country Churchyards.
Thus in a world of sorrow
Joys brighten but to wane,
Then comes a fairer morrow,
No night-gloom in its train.
Time then will ripen bliss,
Space there will swim with song,
Hope for sure joy like this;—
May hope be sense ere long.—M.
"We wander here, in valley drear,
But Christ's blest voice doth bid rejoice,
Waking from all below, of suff'ring, grief, and woe."
C. L.
"Bury the dead,—and weep
In stillness o'er the loss;
Bury the dead,—in Christ they sleep,
Who bore on earth His cross;
And from the grave their dust shall rise,
In His own image, to the skies."
The path is long, the way is dreary,
To hearts of earthly troubles weary;
But each day brings us nearer home,
The glorious unseen world to come.—A.
