Are the thickly-showered laurels.
Now his days on earth are numbered,
As the sands are gently dropping—
—Fourscore years and four their telling—
Now his mighty brain is resting,
From the pressure of life’s burdens,
May his end be as the twilight
Of a day replete with blessings;
May he fall asleep in Jesus,
With the Father’s welcome plaudit,