Pilgrim’s Progress.
Rest thou in peace! Beneath the sheltering sod
There is a lowly door, a narrow way,
That leadeth to the Paradise of God;
There, weary pilgrim, let thy wanderings stay.
Rest thou in peace! We would not call thee back
To know the grief that comes with riper years,
To tread in sorrow all Life’s thorny track,
And drain with us the bitter cup of tears.
Rest thou in peace! With chastened hearts we bow,
And pour for thee a low and solemn strain;
Thy voice shall chant the hymns of Zion now,
But it shall mingle not with ours again.
Rest thou in peace! Not in the silent grave—
Thy spirit heard the summons from above,
And blessed the token that the angel gave—
An arrow, sharpened—but with tenderest love.
Rest thou in peace! With blessings on thy head,
Pass to the land where sinless spirits dwell—
Gone, but not lost!—We will not call thee dead—
The angels claimed thee! Dear one—Fare-thee-well.
ANGEL LILY.
Of all the flowers that greet the light,
Or open ’neath the summer’s sun,
With fragrance sweet, and beauty bright,
The Lily is the fairest one,
And in its incense-cup there lies
A perfume, as from Paradise.
O, once there lived a fair, sweet child,
And Lily was her gentle name;
As beautiful and meekly mild,
As if from Heaven’s pure life she came—
A breathing psalm, a living prayer,
To make men think of worlds more fair.