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250.

She was conscientious in the discharge of all the duties belonging to her station in life, and faithfully devoted to the interests of her master and mistress, from affection as well as from religious principle.

251.

We firmly trust, though here her dust
Entomb'd awhile remains,

Her spirit bless'd, in peace and rest,
The heaven of heavens contains.

252.

How vain are all worldly pursuits, when placed in competition with the salvation of the soul!

253.

Though many a widow mourns the spirit fled,
And orphans sorrow for his early doom,
No banner speaks the triumphs of the dead,
Nor breathing marble decorates his tomb.

The blazon'd banner, and the bust may swell
The pomp of greatness, and excite surprise :
A simple stone is quite enough to tell

The passing stranger where a good man lies.

254.

As much as mortal mould could e'er assume
Of heavenly form and fashion in the tomb
Here mouldering lies. What will its beauty be,
When robed in light and immortality?

255.

He was a simple man, and simple shall be his epitaph. Bent down with a weight of years, his heart was strong, for he read his Bible, and believed the promises it contains. In hope of a joyful resurrection through his Saviour he died; and with the same hope we have here committed his body to the dust.

256.

In all the changes of thy life,
Still for thy death prepare:

O give thine earliest youth to God;
Thine age shall be his care.

257.

When thoughts of sin and grace are given,
How dark is hell! how bright is heaven!
O seek thy Saviour, and prepare
The one to shun, the other share.

258.

When thunders are rolling, when lightnings are hurl'd,

And the blasts of destruction arise,

He calmly may smile at the storms of the world Whose treasures are safe in the skies.

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259.

Ripen'd harvest! which the Lord
Here hath in his garner stor'd,
Till, with reproductive voice,
O'er his labours he rejoice,
And the fields ethereal sow
With such precious seed as thou:
Ripen'd harvest! till that day,
Here each torpid germ we lay
Of the glory and the bliss
All shall wake to, who are His:
Safe each atom will he keep

Of the dead in Him who sleep.

260.

We know that this perishable memorial will only keep alive his memory for a few fleeting years; but we believe that when his name shall be forgotten by sinners on earth, it will be remembered by his Saviour in heaven.

261.

And art thou gone? In hurried haste
Thy brief career is run:
Thy little pilgrimage is past;
Farewell! farewell, my son!

To Him thy spirit I commend
Who first thy being gave;
And for a little season lend
Thy body to the grave.

Ere long thy now unconscious heart,
With gladness and surprise,
Thy fleshly, mouldering, mortal part
Immortal shall arise.

262.

Not for the dead these graven stones:
O no, the dead will never heed them:
They mutely stand mid mouldering bones,
And only speak to those who read them.

263.

Grim Death surpris'd him all alone,
And forc'd him unprepar'd to flee:
So, Reader, we have rais'd this stone
That it may not prove so with thee.

264.

The man who moulders here beneath the sod
Rever'd and lov'd the Scriptures of his God:
He read them gladly; bound them to his
breast;

Found in them hope, and peace, and heavenly

rest:

They taught him humbling truths-himself to know

In doubt, and fear, and trouble, where to goTo live, to die,-and, in his latest breath,

They gave

him promise of life after death.

Though in this grave his dust a season be,

Where God and heaven are, doubtless there is he.

265.

Few are there with a frame so strong;

Few are there who have liv'd so long;
And fewer still, just and sincere
As he whose body moulders here.

266.

No estimate can reach the value of an immortal soul: none, therefore, can tell what he has achieved who has "turned a sinner from the error of his ways, and saved a soul from death."

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