God gave thee life,—a life of noble aims,
Brief, yet inspired by loftiness of thought,—
Thought, the great offspring of a mighty pow’r,
Which thou didst wield to lead thy fellow-men
Along great duty’s hard and ruggèd path.
Thine was a bright example. High aloft
Thy virtues flash’d their pure inspiring rays,
Piercing the murky clouds of human sin,
And lighting up the realm where goodness dwells.
viTo know thee was to love thee. Thine the pow’r
To weave thy spell around the hearts of men.
A noble life is wondrous, beautiful.
And such was thine, brief—yea, alas! too brief,—
Yet not one mis-spent hour could claim of thee
Its stern account, as o’er the bound’ry line,
Across the frontier, ’twixt life and death,
With fearless step thou sought’st the better land.
They call thee dead! Nay, surely ’tis not Death
To pass from one world to another realm?
’Tis but a pilgrimage, a heavenly tour
Throughout the vast creation of our God.
Nay, dead thou art not, for thy spirit lives,
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