He shew’d what others labour to conceal;
Convinc’d, no palliating excuses sought,
But freely own’d his error, or his fault.”
“Shall I a momentary loss deplore,
Lamenting after him that weeps no more?
What though, forbid by the Atlantic wave,
I cannot share my old companion’s grave,
Yet, at the trumpet’s call, my dust shall rise,
With his fly up to Jesus in the skies,
And live with him the life that never dies.”