Wise in his day that heathen emperor, To whom each morrow, came a slave, and cried, "Philip, remember thou must die"; no more. To me such daily voice were misapplied -- Disease guests with me; and each cough, or cramp, Or aching, like the Macedonian slave, Is my @3memento mori.@1 'T is the stamp Of God's true life to be in dying brave. "I fear not death, but dying" -- not the long Hereafter, sweetened by immortal love; But the quick, terrible last breath, -- the strong Convulsion. Oh, my Lord of breath above! Grant me a quiet end, in easeful rest, -- A sweet removal, on my mother's breast. |