Such is man’s losses—varied lot,
To-day he counts his store,
To-morrow breathless on the spot
He pac’d the day before.
Let those who wish thro’ life’s short span,
In heaven’s path to move;
Copy the late departed man,
Whom Death has call’d above.
Upon his word you might depend,
Experience prov’d it true;
He ever was the poor man’s friend,
Before he bade adieu.
He always would afford relief
To those who crav’d his aid;
And felt for those annoy’d by grief
’Till Nature’s debt was paid.
As Magistrate, impartial steer’d
His course in such a way,
As made him honor’d and rever’d,
Where prudence had her sway.
Justice he lov’d, to others bore
That boon, while life remain’d;
His loss on earth the world deplore,
Yet trust he has obtain’d
A place of rest, thro’ Jesus’ aid,
Till summon’d to appear
Before our God—before the blest,
His sentence for to hear.
I’ll on domestic scenes now dwell
As husband, ever kind;
As father, few could him excel,
And those he’s left behind
Attest it, by their tears sincere,
Each relative has shed
Upon the sable gloomy bier,
Encompass’d round the dead.
He’s fled to where none can return—
Where heavenly blessings dwell;
Then waft a tear o’er Palgrave’s urn,
Whene’er you bid farewell.