On the Death of Mr. Ebenezer Blackwell, April 21, 1782, Part 2

On earth he drank the deepest cup
Of sharp but consecrated pain.

And fill'd his mournful measure up.
And sufifer'd with his Lord to reign;
Meekly the sudden call obey'd,
His walling spirit to resign;
And only for his Saviour stay'd,
To finish His own work Divine.
The souls whom most he prized below,
The dearest partners of his heart,
Free and detach'd, he let them go,
Resign'd, and ready to depart.
Tis all his gasping soul's desire,
To find his place prepared above,
And keep, with that enraptured choir,
A sabbath of eternal love.
His prayer is heard, and, saved at last,
He drops the gross, corporeal clay;
The dreary, doleful vale is pass'd.

And opens into glorious day:
Pass'd are his days to feel and mourn,
Accomplish'd is the warfare here;
His Father wills him to return,
And Israel's fiery steeds appear!
Triumphant while his soul ascends,
By ministerial spirits convey'd.
The numbers whom his grateful friends
He by the' "unrighteous mammon" made.
With kindred saints and angels bright,
In shining ranks expecting stand.
And, shouting, all the sons of light
Receive and welcome him to land!
; Happy the souls he leaves behind.

If, following him, as he his Lord,
As meek, as lowly, and resign'd,
They hear the last transporting word!
If ready through their Saviour's love,
When all the storms of life are o'er,
As safe and sudden they remove,
And grasp their friend to part no more!

To ask his death shall I presume?

Saviour, in me Thyself reveal.
And grant me, when my hour is come.

His penitence and faith to feel:
Thou seest the wish of this weak heart.

His cup of torture to decline;
And let me then, like him, depart,
And let his final state be mine I