Death of a Scholar.
1We come our Sabbath hymn to raise,
Our earnest, humble prayer to pour;
One voice is hushed, its notes of praise
Shall mingle here with ours no more.
2The lips are still, the eye is dim,
That brightly beamed with joy and love;
The spirit, it hath gone to Him
Who freely gave it from above.
3We will not weep, for Jesus said,