On the Death of Mrs. Dorothy Hardy: The Mothers

Still let me his remembrance bless,
Still on his dearest image dwell,
Indulge my sorrow's soft excess,
And weep o'er one I loved so well!
Flow fast, and never cease to flow.
Those streams of unforbidden tears,
Till He who shares His creature's woe.
The Comforter in death appears.

He knows the texture of my heart.
Remembers that I am but dust,
So loath, alas, with that to part
Which nature loves and prizes most!
Partner of all my good and ill,
My friend, my bosom friend, he was,-
In anguish exquisite I feel,
I feel the' unutterable loss!

Yet for myself, not him, I grieve,
By Mercy's sudden stroke removed
Beyond the reach of pain to live.
Safe in the arms of his Beloved:
He looks with pity from the skies, —
His happiness my grief suspends,
Crown'd with the life that never dies,
Possess'd of joy that never ends.

Contemplating his bless'd estate,
I hasten to my endless home.
And lighter feel the' afflictive weight
Which sinks my flesh into the tomb:
The sense of his transcendent bUss
With comfort soothes this aching breast,
Commands these storms of grief to cease,
And lulls my sorrowing soul to rest.

Not without hope henceforth I mourn;
(Since Thou, my God, wouldst have it so;)
He never shall to me return,
But I ere long to him shall go;
Thou wilt cut short my mourning days,
Thou wilt my longing soul prepare,
To see with him Thy heavenly face,
And grasp my son triumphant there!