ON OBSERVING A SIGN IN SHEFFIELD WORDED, "BRIDE CAKES AND FUNERAL BISCUITS."
Ah! is the bridal-day,
When festive pleasures meet,
The presage, but of swift decay,
Within the winding sheet?
What then is man at best?
A blooming,—fading flower;
Immortal, in a mortal vest,
The creature of an hour.
Well then may death be joined
Unto our festal days;
Well may our pleasures limit find
Within so short a space.
To seek eternal bliss
Within time's narrow span,
Is man's best int'rest;—only this
Can form the future man.
Let dying mortals then
Their foolish dreams forsake;
Unto their rest return again,
And Christ their refuge make.
Then, even timid youth
May smile upon the tomb;
And festive moments welcome truth,
Though clad in robes of gloom.
By Jesus' death, is broke
Death's dark and powerful spell;
And, while to Him by faith we look,
We know that all is well.
"While meeting the little company my soul was blest. O for spiritual discernment and grace, that I may be truly helpful to them, and deal faithfully. Visited a dying person who says, she dare not rest on Jesus;—yet HE is a tower."