A Funeral Hymn.

How blest is our brother bereft Of all that could burden his mind! How easy the soul, that hath left This wearisome body behind! Of evil incapable thou, Whose relicts with envy I see; No longer in misery now, No longer a sinner like me.

This earth is affected no more, With sickness, or shaken with pain; The war in the members is o'er, They never shall suffer again. This languishing head is at rest, Its thinking and aching are o'er; This quiet immovable breast, Is heav'd by affliction no more.

This heart is no longer the seat Of trouble and torturing pain; It ceases to flutter and beat, It never shall flutter again. The lids he so seldom could close, By sorrow forbidden to sleep, Sealed up in eternal repose, Have strangely forgotten to weep.