SLOW MOVEMENT. (52)
1. Oh that those lips had language! Life has passed
With me but roughly, since I heard them last.
2. A tremulous sigh from the gentle night wind
Through the forest leaves slowly is creeping,
While stars up above, with their glittering eyes,
Keep guard; for the army is sleeping.
3. O Lord'! have mercy upon us, miserable offenders'!
4. So live, that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan that moves
To the pale realms of shade, where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,
Thou go not, like the quarry slave at night,
Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.