On the Death of Lady Hotham, June 30, 1756, Part 6

Glory to the Redeemer give.
The glory of a soul brought home;
Our friend, for whom we joy and grieve.
Is to the' eternal garner come.
Like a ripe shock of corn laid up,
In season due, for God mature.
He kept the faith, held fast his hope.
And made his crown through sufferings sure.

Let infidels and heathen mourn,
Hopeless to see their dead restored;
yVefeel him from our bosom torn,
But calmly say, " It is the Lord!"
In pity of His creature's pain,
Whom God had to the' afflicted given,
He jusdy claims His own again.
And takes to his reward in heaven.

Let us the shining path pursue,
And, following him, to God ascend.
His bright example keep in view.
His useful life and blessed end.
He lived a life of faith unfeign'd.
His rigid virtue unsubdued.
His strict integrity maintain'd,
And boldly own'd — he fear'd a God.

O when shall we his equal find,
To all so just, to all so dear!
The pious son, the husband kind,
The father good, the friend sincere!
Not David loved his friend so well,
Loath from i s Jonathan to part,
Or served him with so warm a zeal,
Or held him in so fond a heart.

Yet in no narrow bounds confined.
His undisguised affection flow'd:
His heart, enlarged to all mankind,
Render'd to all the love he owed:
But chiefly those who loved his Lord,
Who most of Jesu's mind express'd,
Won by their lives without the word,
He cherish'd in his generous breast.

) Cover'd with honourable shame,
He mark'd the poor afflicted few,
The faithful followers of the Lamb,
In life and death to Jesus true:
Rejected and despised of men.
He heard the saints departing sing;
He saw them smile in mortal pain,
And trample on the grisly king.

While weeping there the sinner lay,
Asunder sawn by hopes and fears.
He cast, as filthy rags, away.
The righteousness of seventy years:
Loathsome, and foul, and self-abhorr'd,
Full of all sin, void of all good,
His soul at the last gasp implored
One drop of that atoning blood.

Nor yet the peaceful answer came;
His spirit, to the utmost tried,
Must suffer all his guilty shame,
Condemn'd, and scourged, and crucified;
Must all his Saviour's sorrows share,
And cry, as bleeding on the tree.
As in the depths of self-despair,
"My God hath quite forsaken me!"

"Not so," replied the Father's love.
And Jesus in his heart reveal'd;
He felt the comfort from above,
The gospel grace, the pardon seal'd:
How strange that instantaneous bliss.
While to the brink of Tophet driven,
Caught up, as from the dark abyss.
He mounted to the highest heaven I