OH Saviour of the faithful dead, With whom Thy servants dwell, Though cold and green the turf is spread Above their narrow cell, -- No more we cling to mortal clay, We doubt and fear no more, Nor shrink to tread the darksome way Which Thou hast trod before! 'Twas hard from those I loved to go, Who knelt around my bed, Whose tears bedew'd my burning brow, Whose arms upheld my head! As fading from my dizzy view, I sought their forms in vain, The bitterness of death I knew, And groan'd to live again. 'Twas dreadful when th' Accuser's power Assail'd my sinking heart, Recounting every wasted hour, And each unworthy part; But, Jesus! in that mortal fray, Thy blessed comfort stole, Like sunshine in a stormy day, Across my darken'd soul! When, soon or late, this feeble breath No more to Thee shall pray, Support me through the vale of death, And in the darksome way! When cloth'd in fleshly weeds again I wait thy dread decree, Judge of the world! bethink Thee then That Thou hast died for me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHEN THE SPEED COMES by ROBERT FROST AFTER THE QUARREL by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR MENAPHON: DORON'S JIG by ROBERT GREENE THE HOMECOMING by THOMAS HARDY SONNET: THE EVENING STAR by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW GROWN-UP by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY |