Prostrate, all my guilt discerning, Day of weeping, when from ashes THE BURIAL OF MOSES. "And he buried him in a valley in the land of Moab, over against Beth-peor; but no man knoweth of his sepulchre unto this day." Y Nebo's lonely mountain, BY On this side Jordan's wave, In a vale in the land of Moab, For the angels of God upturned the sod, That was the grandest funeral That ever passed on earth; And the crimson streak on ocean's cheek Grows into the great sun Noiselessly as the spring-time So, without sound of music Or voice of them that wept, Silently down from the mountain crown Perchance the bald old eagle, Looked on the wondrous sight. Still shuns the hallowed spot, For beast and bird have seen and heard That which man knoweth not. But when the warrior dieth, With arms reversed and muffled drum, Follow the funeral car. They show the banners taken, And after him lead his masterless steed, Amid the noblest of the land Men lay the sage to rest, With costly marble dressed, In the great minster transept, Where lights like glories fall, And the sweet choir sings, and the organ rings, Along the emblazoned wall. This was the bravest warrior That ever breathed a word; On the deathless page, truths half so sage And had he not high honor? And the dark rock-pines, like tossing plumes, Over his bier to wave; And God's own hand, in that lonely land, In that deep grave, without a name, Whence his uncoffined clay Shall break again most wondrous thought! Before the judgment day, And stand with glory wrapped around On the hills he never trod, And speak of the strife that won our life O lonely tomb in Moab's land, He hides them deep, like the secret sleep - Bringing fragrance to the forest, Softly murmur, gentle voices, THE LAND OF THE BLEST. DAUGHTER. EAR father, I ask for my mother in vain; DE Has she sought some far country, her health to regain? Has she left our cold country of frost and of snow, For some warm, sunny land, where the soft breezes blow? FATHER. Yes, yes, gentle daughter, thy loved mother has gone DAUGHTER. Is that land, my dear father, more lovely than ours? Is it cheered by the glad sound of music and song? FATHER. Yes, the flowers are despoiled not by winter or night, DAUGHTER. Yet that land to my mother will lonely appear? FATHER, My darling, thy mother rejoices to gaze On the long-severed friends of her earliest days; DAUGHTER. How I long to partake of such meetings of bliss! FATHER. Not on me, love; I trust I may reach that blest clime, 0 GOD. THOU eternal One! whose presence bright All space doth occupy, all motion guide; Unchanged through time's all-devastating flight; Thou only God! There is no God beside! Being above all beings! Mighty One! Whom none can comprehend, and none explore; Who fill'st existence with thyself alone; Embracing all-supporting- ruling o'erBeing whom we call God- and know no more! |