64
LINES AT THE FUNERAL OF A CHILD.
How like the beauteous flower,
Culled from the laden bough
At morning's rosy hour,
Thou seemest to me now.
Culled from the laden bough
At morning's rosy hour,
Thou seemest to me now.
Just ten short years ago
They to the altar came,
Where mystic waters flow,
For thy baptismal name;
And there they bowed and prayed
Thy nature to renew,
Now in the casket laid
Shrined as the crystal dew.
They to the altar came,
Where mystic waters flow,
For thy baptismal name;
And there they bowed and prayed
Thy nature to renew,
Now in the casket laid
Shrined as the crystal dew.
The solemn dirge is sung,
The sacred service o'er;
And ye, whose hearts are wrung,
May blessings on you pour.
Look up and kiss the chastening rod—
Why weep when thou hast given
A cherub unto God,
An angel unto heaven?
The sacred service o'er;
And ye, whose hearts are wrung,
May blessings on you pour.
Look up and kiss the chastening rod—
Why weep when thou hast given
A cherub unto God,
An angel unto heaven?
