On the Death of Colonel Galatin

In the mansions of the bless'd,
Where the weary are at rest,
Far from earth and sin removed,
Can we mourn whom best we loved?

Yes; though now his spirit reigns,
Stranger to our griefs and pains,
Still remembering what he was,
Calmly sad, we feel our loss;

By our old companion left.
Of our bosom-friend bereft.
Gentle, generous, and sincere,
Galatin demands the tear.

We ourselves, not him, deplore,
Safe on the eternal shore,
Safe, where all his sorrows end.
Safe with his redeeming Friend.

Jesus cheer'd the sinner here,
Show'd Himself the Comforter,
Saved the penitent forgiven.
Bare his ransom'd soul to heaven.

We, alas, remain below.
Pilgrims in a vale of woe,
Banish'd from our native place,
Wandering o'er the wilderness.

Thorns and briers our spirits wound.
Lions roar, and wolves surround;
Troubled, destitute, distress'd,
On this earth we cannot rest:

Burden'd with a load of clay,
Struggling to escape away;
For our absent Lord we sigh,
For our country in the sky.

Lord, while after Thee we mourn,
Comfort us with Thy return;
Saviour of the chosen race,
Come, and all our sorrows chase.

Bring the heavenly city down,
Bring the patient victor's crown;
Son of God, on earth appear,
King of saints triumphant here!