Death of a minister.

BROTHER, thou art from us taken In the glory of thy years; As the oak, by tempests shaken, Falls ere time its verdure sears.

Here, where oft thy lips have taught us, Of the Lamb, who died to save— Where thy guiding hand hath brought us To the deep, baptismal wave—

Pale and cold we see thee lying, One that was to all so dear; And the mourners' bitter sighing Falls unheeded on thine ear. All thy love and zeal, to lead us, Where immortal fountains flow; And on living bread to feed us, In our fond remembrance glow.

May the conqu'ring faith that cheer'd thee, When thy foot on Jordan press'd; Guide our spirits while we leave thee, In the tomb that Jesus bless'd.