I.
Pastor and friend, whose voice from year to year
With lore of heaven, the listening ear hath mov'd;
Whose pure example, brightening still, and clear,
Gave beauty to the path thy words approv'd:
Alike by youth, and reverend age belov'd,
In vain, alas!—thy fostering smile we seek;
To distant fields of sacred toil remov'd,
We miss thy guiding hand and o'er the cheek
Steal the heart's living pearls, as of thy loss we speak.
II.
For thou wert with us, when our souls were tried
By the sore ills that throng this pilgrim way;
And like a brother bow'd thee at our side
When pain and sickness mark'd us for their prey,
Or dearest hopes sank down in dark decay;
How rose thy tones, as if an angel pray'd,
When forth the spirit pass'd from failing clay;
Or with the mourner-train, in funeral shade,
Where sadly, dust to dust, the holy dead were laid!
III.
The sheep of other folds thy kindness knew,—
The wandering lambs that own'd no shepherd's care,
The erring outcast, shrinking from the view,
The poor, in cell all desolate and bare,
The homeless stranger, in his deep despair;
No cold pretension, oft from learning bred,
No pharisaic pride constrain'd thy prayer;
