Epitaph on Owen Lloyd

Could love devout, or longing sighs, or tears,
From God obtain a grant of lengthen'd years,
Then, wandering reader, thou hadst never stood
Beside the grave of one so young and good.
Still in the small but consecrated place
He spake of judgment and he spake of grace ;
Of judgment dread, and merciful delay :
And latest spake of that, the latest day.
When those, — how few I — that may compare with him,
Shall mount on high with brightest seraphim !