Lines, of an Instance of Filial Attention
When deep Affliction casts its mournful shade,
Sweet to the soul is filial Duty's aid;
O'er midnight Grief, its soft and soothing ray,
Yields the fair promise of a future day. —
Oh bright Religion! 'tis thy heav'nly pow'r,
Which arms the noble mind in Sorrow's hour;
Though firm, not savage — 'tis thy glorious part
To soften, yet sustain, the virtuous heart!
Whilst Heav'n will bless, and Earth commends the tear,
Which flows respectful o'er a Father's bier.
Sweet to the soul is filial Duty's aid;
O'er midnight Grief, its soft and soothing ray,
Yields the fair promise of a future day. —
Oh bright Religion! 'tis thy heav'nly pow'r,
Which arms the noble mind in Sorrow's hour;
Though firm, not savage — 'tis thy glorious part
To soften, yet sustain, the virtuous heart!
Whilst Heav'n will bless, and Earth commends the tear,
Which flows respectful o'er a Father's bier.
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