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Text: | The dying Christian |
1 From his low bed of mortal dust,
Escap'd the prison of his clay,
The new inhabitant of bliss
To heav'n directs his wond'rous way.
2 Ye fields, that witness'd once his tears,
Ye winds, that wafted oft his sighs,
Ye mountains, where he breath'd his pray'rs,
When sorrow's shadows veil'd his eyes;
3 No more the weary pilgrim mourns,
No more affliction wrings his heart;
Th'unfetter'd soul to God returns--
Forever he and anguish part!
4 Receive, O earth, his faded form,
In thy cold bosom let it lie;
Safe let it rest from ev'ry storm--
Soon must it rise, no more to die!
Text Information | |
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First Line: | From his low bed of mortal dust |
Title: | The dying Christian |
Meter: | L. M. |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1845 |
Topic: | Consummation of Things: Death |