Classic Poem

(Designed for a Tomb-Stone.)

" Death (deem'd abrupt) sits on my mortal frame;
" But can aught fall as sudden from a God?
" Does not his pitying eye in mercy view
" Man in his swift progression? What avails
" The early year, or date of lengthen'd age?
" Merely to live, boasts a Creator's hand,
" And life's first moment stamp'd my soul immortal.
" Then trust Infinity, ye weeping friends,
" Nor spend that moment, in a fruitless sigh,
" Which to your soul belongs; already lodg'd
" Beyond the grasp of Death; my warfare's o'er,
" Then mourn but for yourselves, and own a God. "