Classic Poem

'Neath our weeping, 'neath our weeping,
Lies the young disciple sleeping;
Jesus moved him with His story,
Promised him the heavenly glory,
While his vows of service keeping.

Earnest spirit, earnest spirit,
How he did that fire inherit!
How, to seek the lost, did wander,
Rent his home-ties all asunder,
And his martyr's crown did merit.

O, to see him! O, to see him,
When the stroke of death did free him!
Burst the chains that long impeded,
Quenched the sorrows he had heeded;
Angels to his home convey him.

Blessed resting, blessed resting,
Not a jar of earth molesting;
Leaves of cypress sigh above him,
Breathe the faith that once did move him,
Green and fragrant life attesting.