BEHOLD THE PLACE WHERE THEY LAID HIM. Royal founts! a regal throng Stray your glittering streams among; But ye are not half so sweet Shed their young leaves on the wind, Leaving odorous breath behind. With deep thoughts that pine and yearn BEHOLD THE PLACE WHERE THEY LAID HIM. BY MRS. ELLIS. Now wakes the dawn O'er field and lawn, O'er mountain, lake, and river; From far away, The wheels of day Come rolling bright as ever. Before thy gates No mourner waits, Thou glad, thou glorious morning! O'er all the earth, What bliss has birth At thy returning! Dark night seem'd long, For birds of song Slept in the gloomy forest; While wakeful eyes Gazed on the skies For light, when need was sorest. The pilgrim cold, Sought the soft turf for pillow; The seaman grew, On the rude billow. But fail'd not still On plain and hill, The fresh'ning dews to waken Of confidence That earth was not forsaken; For He who made Both light and shade, And clothed the world in beauty, Hath made that trust In Him, the Just, Our joy and duty. Then why forlorn, At early morn, Those sorrowing sisters only? Why gaze they on That funeral stone, So sad-so lost-so lonely? Deep shades of gloom Dwell round that tomb, And scarce the light shines o'er it; Yet still they stay, To weep and pray, And watch before it. Weep-weep no more, Dark night is o'er, The grave's cold bars are broken! |