On the Death of Mrs. a. C

And is the struggle past?
And hath she groan'd her last?
Rise, my soul, and take thy flight,
Haste, the' ascending triumph share,
Trace her to the plains of light,
Grasp her happy spirit there!

I know her now possess'd
Of everlasting rest!
Now I find her lodged above.

Now her heavenly joy I feel,
Ecstasy of joy and love;
Glorious and unspeakable!

I triumph in her bliss!
The proof, the token this!
This my dying friend's bequest.

This the answer of her prayer.
Speaks her enter'd into rest.
Tells me I shall meet her there.

Lord, I accept the sign.
And bless Thy love Divine:
Thou hast through the mortal vale
Led her to the realms above.
Caught her from the toils of hell.
Placed her on a throne of love.
I, I shall conquer too,
Like her shall all break through!

To my heavenly friends convey'd,
I shall share the marriage feast:

Pants my soul on earth delay'd,
Gasps for her eternal rest.

Come, O my Saviour, come,
Receive Thy servant home!
Now recall Thy banish'd one,
Draw me from the tent of clay:
Hear'st Thou not Thy Spirit's groan?
Come, my Saviour, come away!

O come! Thy Spirit cries;
O come! the bride replies;
Thee I call with every breath;
Let me die to see Thy day.
Snatch me from this life of death:
Come, my Saviour, come away!