On the Death of Mrs. Hannah Dewal, Part 2

Celestial charity expands
The heart to all our ransom'd race;
Though knit to one in closest bands,
Her soul doth every soul embrace.
She no unkind exception makes,
A childlike follower of her God;
The world into her heart she takes,
The purchase dear of Jesu's blood.

She loved even that most straiten'd sect
Who every other sect disown.
Who all beside themselves reject.
As heaven were bought for them alone
With noble frankness she confess'd
Good out of Bj bylon might come.
And cherish'd in her candid breast
The warmest partisan of Rome.

But, number'd with the British sheep.
She prized and held the blessing fast,
Resolved her privilege to keep
Till all the storms of life were past:
She kept the faith at first received,
(Nor fiercely judged who turn'd aside,)
A daughter of our Sion lived,
A mother of our Israel died.

Warn'd of her dissolution near.
By waning strength and lingering pain,
She bless'd the welcome messenger;
(To live was Christ, to die was gain)
Made ready for her heavenly Lord,
Who came His servant to release.
Her lamp with holiness was stored.
Her spirit kept in perfect peace.

She cast the tempting fiend behind.
Who preach'd, in her last sacred hours,
"Now, now beheve again, and find
Sensations new and rapturous powers."
In vain to instantaneous pride
He urged a saint of Christ possess'd
With ease she turn'd the dart aside,
And closer clave to Jesu's breast.

Her humble confidence she held,
Built on a Rock that could not move,
And, conscious of her pardon seal'd,
And fill'd with purity of love.
The world with wide-spread arms embraced,
Partaker of her Saviour's mind,
And, dying, all her soul confess'd
Alike drawn out to all mankind.

Her convoy to those endless joys.
While IsraePs flaming guard attends,
The precious moments she employs
In dealing blessings to her friends;
In counsels kind as each had need.
In witnessing the truth of grace.
While angels crowd around her bed,
And heaven is open'd in her face.

"My Master calls: at His command.
Joyful I drop this earthly clod;
My roll I carry in my hand;
Tis written, sign'd, and seal'd with blood:
My way," she cries, "is strew'd with flowers
A pleasant path before me lies.
And leads to amaranthine bowers.
And leads to Christ in paradise."

When language fail'd, her silence spoke
In meekest majesty of love
On opening heaven she fix'd her look.
Like angels worshipping above:
Full of unutterable awe,
Her look the' Invisible declared,
As bringing, in the sight she saw,
Her weighty crown, her vast reward.

That vision of the One in Three
Sweetly dissolves the human shrine,
It swallows up mortality
In joy ineffably Divine:
That sight, too strong for life to bear,
Her true eternal Life displays.
And, eagle-like, she cleaves the air.
And mingles with the glorious blaze.