Poems Sigourney 1834/Thoughts at the Funeral of a Respected Friend
THOUGHTS AT THE FUNERAL OF A RESPECTED FRIEND.
That solemn knell, whose mournful call
Strikes on the heart, I heard.
I saw the sable pall
Covering the form revered.
And lo! his father's race, the ancient, and the blest,
Unlock the dim sepulchral halls, where silently they rest,
And to the unsaluting tomb,
Curtained round with rayless gloom,
He entereth in, a wearied guest.
To his bereaved abode, the fireside chair,
The holy, household prayer,
Affection's watchful zeal, his life that blest,
The tuneful lips that soothed his pain,
With the dear name of "Father" thrilling through his breast,
He cometh not again.
Flowers in his home bloom fair,
The evening taper sparkles clear,
The intellectual banquet waiteth there,
Which his heart held so dear.
The tenderness and grace
That make religion beautiful, still spread
Their sainted wings to guard the place—
Alluring friendship's frequent tread.
Still seeks the stranger's foot that hospitable door,
But he, the husband and the sire, returneth never more.
His was the upright deed,
His the unswerving course,
'Mid every thwarting current's force,
Unchanged by venal aim, or flattery's hollow reed:
The holy truth walked ever by his side,
And in his bosom dwelt, companion, judge, and guide.
But when disease revealed
To his unclouded eye
The stern destroyer standing nigh,
Where turned he for a shield?
Wrapt he the robe of stainless rectitude
Around his breast to meet cold Jordan's flood?
Grasped he the staff of pride
His steps through death's dark vale to guide?
Ah no! self-righteousness he cast aside,
Clasping, with firm and fearless faith, the cross of Him who died.
Serene, serene,
He pressed the crumbling verge of this terrestrial scene,
Breathed soft, in childlike trust,
The parting groan,
Gave back to dust its dust—
To heaven its own.