On the Death of Mr. William Kingsbury, February 8, 1782

And is he then set free,
The child of misery?
Free from sin, and want, and pain,
Safely lodged in Abraham's breast;
There the wrong'd no more complain,
There the weary are at rest.

Bom to distress and woe,
Inured to grief below.
Toiling hard for scanty bread.
Scanty bread he could not find,
Not a place to lay his head.
Not a friend in all mankind.

By his own flesh forsook.
With want and sickness broke,
Charity's cold hand at last
Necessary food supplied;
Wanting then the power to taste,
Meekly he sunk down and died.

But, lo, he lives again,
A new immortal man;
Bless'd with Lazarus he lives,
With the tuneful choir above,
Good, not evil, things receives.
Fruits of his Redeemer's love.

Happy at last might I
As meek and lamblike die.
Gladly reach Immanuel's land.
Meet for heavenly concerts made,
By the bright angelic band
To my Father's arms convey'd.

With those redeem'd of old.
In life's fair book enroll'd,
Saviour, tune and take my soul,
With that double choir to meet;
There the harmony is full,
There the triumph is complete!