Sonnet ON THE DEATH OF AN AGED CHRISTIAN. "O DEATH, where is thy sting?" he said, and smiled, That wither'd, white-hair'd man of God.-" Be hold! Is that sting here?"-Glorious of soul, and bold For holy Truth, yet lowly as a child, The Saint and Sage was dying! But the light Of his rapt soul met radiance from above: "Tell me, my friends, doth not this moment prove That on the living Rock of Truth and Right My faith was founded? Let my latest breath Here, in the dread calm of th' o'ershadowing tomb? No! 'Tis Reality! And now in death I know it, and am happy!"-So he died;— NOTES. DEITY. NOTE 1. PAGE 18. The fool hath said in his heart, There is no God. Ps. xiv. 1. NOTE 2. PAGE 18. Bold with joy, Forth from his dark and lonely hiding-place Sailing on obscene wings athwart the noon, Drops his blue-fringéd lids, and holds them close, Coleridge. |