Acts 8:2: And devout men... made great lamentation, &c

Bleeding from their bosom rent
Might they not a saint lament?
From the flock by violence torn
Might they not a shepherd mourn?

Free from nature's fond excess
Thus we may our grief confess,
Thus a parted friend deplore
Grieved for them that grieve no more.

Chiefly, where the Lord of all
Doth His instruments recall,
Miss we our instructors here,
Mourn a ravish'd minister.

Deeply, justly sensible,
Then the general loss we feel,
Testify our grateful love,
Weep for one who sings above.