On the Death of Sir Richard Sutton
In those bright seenes, where Mercy dwells above,
Warm'd with the lustre of Redeeming Love!
There may the soul, refin'd, of S UTTON dwell,
Who practis'd here its sacred laws so well! —
To Heaven supreme, we yield the friend we prize,
Tho' planted in the grave, sweet Hope shall rise,
And hear its fruit immortal in the skies.
Warm'd with the lustre of Redeeming Love!
There may the soul, refin'd, of S UTTON dwell,
Who practis'd here its sacred laws so well! —
To Heaven supreme, we yield the friend we prize,
Tho' planted in the grave, sweet Hope shall rise,
And hear its fruit immortal in the skies.
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