DEATH
by: Bernard Barton (1784-1849)
- I.
- INCE time the awful hour will bring
- Which must receive our parting breath;
- 'Tis no unwise, or useless thing
- To fix our earnest thoughts on Death.
- II.
- To place before our mental view
- A crisis--which we cannot shun,
- When we, in bidding Time adieu,
- Shall find Eternity begun.
- III.
- It must an awful summons prove,
- E'en to the best--to leave behind
- All we have found to cheer, to love,
- In human life, in human kind!
- IV.
- Then, in the looks of those around,
- Who never seem'd so dear before,
- Doubt has a silent answer found,
- And feels that earthly hope is o'er.
- V.
- Then, spite of fond affection's thrill,
- That fain would linger--follow fast
- The dizzy faintness--sick'ning chill,
- Which lead us onward--to THE LAST!
- VI.
- The filmy eye, with vacant gaze,
- Views not the things it rests upon;
- The fluttering pulse more feebly plays,
- And feeling, hearing, sense--are gone.
- VII.
- If hands are clasp'd, the heart, unstirr'd
- By that last pressure, feels no glow;
- If sobs are indistinctly heard,
- The ear their meaning does not know.
- VIII.
- Thus dead unto "the life of life,"
- All it can give we feel no more,
- But wait the last unconscious strife--
- And soon that struggle, too, is o'er.
- IX.
- Is this a scene we all must prove
- In the short lapse of days or years?
- And round our couch the friends we love
- Thus pour their unavailing tears?
- X.
- No--Faith dispels the awful gloom,
- And bids the mourner's weeping eyes
- Behold, from yonder bursting tomb,
- The Sun of Righteousness arise.
- XI.
- No more on man's expiring hour
- Impervious clouds of darkness fall;
- Death has now lost his boasted power,
- Nor dares the ransom'd victim thrall.
- XII.
- Why should we fear his transient sway,
- Since JESUS broke the tyrant's chain?
- Because He lives, our slumb'ring clay
- Shall wake to light and life again.
- XIII.
- Oh, who may hope that awful hour,
- That righteous Judge in peace to meet?
- They who on earth confess'd his power,
- And cast their crowns at Jesus feet.
- XIV.
- Weak though they are, by nature frail,
- Hopes, fix'd on him, their hearts possess;
- Faith bids them look within the veil,
- And Christ becomes their righteousness.
- XV.
- Can I such blissful state attain,
- Who, long in doubt and darkness bound,
- Have felt that all my works are vain
- As tinkling cymbal's empty sound?
- XVI.
- Yes--for in conscious weakness springs
- Sincerest trust in Power Divine;
- Then rest beneath His guardian wings,
- And hope, and faith, and peace, are thine.
- XVII.
- No more than this I ask, or need,
- Secure, since near th' eternal throne
- He ever lives, and still will plead
- For all who his dominion own.
- XVIII.
- On Him then cast each anxious care,
- To Him thy secret griefs confide,
- His hand shall point the latent snare,
- And aid thee when severely tried.
- XIX.
- And when life's closing hour draws nigh,
- May no vain fears thy bosom chill,
- But, though unseen by mortal eye,
- That heavenly guide be with thee still.
- XX.
- Oh, be it thus! and visions bright,
- Blest foretaste of a life divine,
- Triumphant songs, and crowns of light,
- The parting soul may well resign.
- XXI.
- I would not o'er a brighter mind
- Than I can boast, a shadow fling;
- Nor would I doubt the bliss they find
- Whose dying lips can praises sing.
- XXII.
- But unto me earth's holiest hymn
- Would float, I fear, unheeded by,
- When earth itself was growing dim,
- And 'things unseen' were drawing nigh.
- XXIII.
- Nor, if I now can rightly view
- What my own feelings then may be,
- Could aught that man might say, or do,
- Afford availing strength to me.
- XXIV.
- The most that I presume to think,
- Through boundless mercy, may be mine,
- When plac'd on being's trembling brink,
- Is humble trust in grace Divine.
"Death" is reprinted from Napoleon and Other Poems. Bernard Barton. London: Thomas Boys, 1822. |
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