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James Montgomery

On the Death of a Minister, cut off in his Vigour.

Go to the grave in all thy glorious prime,

In full activity of zeal and power;

A Christian cannot die before his time,

The Lord's appointment is the servant's hour.

Go to the grave; at noon from labour cease;

Rest on thy sheaves, thy harvest-task is done;

Come from the heart of battle, and in peace,

Soldier, go home; with thee the fight is won.


Go to the grave; though like a fallen tree,

At once with verdure, flowers, and fruitage crown'd;

Thy form may perish, and thine honours be

Lost in the mouldering bosom of the ground;--

Go to the grave, which, faithful to its trust,

The germ of immortality shall keep;

While safe, as watch'd by cherubim, thy dust

Shall, till the Judgment-day, in Jesus sleep.

Go to the grave, for there thy Saviour lay

In Death's embraces, ere He rose on high;

And all the ransom'd, by that narrow way,

Pass to eternal life beyond the sky.

Go to the grave;--no, take thy seat above;

Be thy pure spirit present with the Lord,

Where thou, for faith and hope, hast perfect love,

And open vision for the written Word.

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