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Thou art gone to the grave—but 'twere wrong May hover round its surface, glides in light, to deplore thee,

And takes no shadow from them. Talfourd. When God was thy Ransom, thy Guardian, and Guide;

It matters not at what hour of the day He gave thee, and took thee, and soon will The righteous fall asleep; death cannot come restore thee;

To him untimely who is fit to die; And death ba no sting, since the Saviour | The less of this cold world, the more of hath died.



The briefer life, the earlier immortality. Oh! beautiful beyond depicting words

Milman. To paint the hour that wafts a soul to heaven! The world grows dim, the scenes of time Death is a commingling of eternity with depart,

time; in the death of a good man, eternity is The bour of peace, the walk of social joy, seen looking through time.

Goethe. The mild companion, and the deep-souled friend,

DEATH-Complacency in.
The lored and lovely-see his face no more.
The mingling spell of sun, of sea and air,

From what I have observed, and what I have Is broken : voice and gaze, and smiles that heard those persons say whose professions speak

lead them to the dying, I am induced to infer Must perish ; parents take their hushed adieu ; that the fear of death is not common, and that, A wife, a child, a daughter half divine,

where it exists, it proceeds rather from a Or son that never drew a father's tear

diseased and enfeebled mind than from any Approach him, and his dying tones receive principle in our nature. Certain it is, that Like God's own language! 'tis an hour of among the poor, the approach of dissolution is woe,

usually regarded with a quiet and natural Yet terrorless, when revelations flow

composure, which it is consolatory to contemFrom faith immortal; view that pale-worn plate, and which is as far removed from the brow,

dead palsy of unbelief as it is from the delirious It gleams with glory!-in his eyes there raptures of fanaticism. Theirs is a true, undawns

hesitating faith, and they are willing to lay A dazzling earnest of unuttered joy.

down the burden of a weary life, in the sure Fach pang subdued, his longing soul respires and certain hope of a blessed immortality. The gales of glorified eternity;

Southey. and round him, hues ethereal, harps of light, DEATH-Composure in. And lineaments of earthless beauty, throng,

Nothing in his life As, widged on melody, the saint departs, Became him like the leaving it; he died While heaven in miniature before him shines.

As one who had been studied in his death, Robert Montgomery. To throw away the dearest thing he owed, As 'twere a careless trifle.

Shakspeare. The righteous perisheth, and no man layeth it to beart; and merciful men are taken away, DEATH-Consolations in. Done considering that the righteous is taken away from the evil to come.

Isaiah. And something I would teach thee from the

grief For the death of the righteous is like the

That thus hath fill'd those gentle eyes with descending of ripe and wholesome fruits from

tears, a pleasant and Aorid tree. Our senses entire, The which may be thy sober, sure relief our limbs unbroken, without horrid tortures;

When sorrow visits thee in after years. after provision made for our children, with a bleasing entailed upon posterity, in the pre

I ask not whither is the spirit flown sence of our friends, our dearest relative

That lit the eye which there in death is closing our eyes and binding our feet, leaving Our Father' hath not made that mystery known,

seal'd; a good name behind us. Jeremy Taylor.

Needless the knowledge, therefore, not re

veald. So his life has flowd From its mysterious urn a sacred stream, But didst thou know, in sure and sacred truth, In whose calm depth the beautiful and pure It had a place assign'd in yonder skies; Alope are mirror'd; which, though shapes of There, through an endless life of joyous youth,

To warble in the bowers of Paradise.

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O think, if then the power to thee were given have been removed. I have brothers, sisters,

In that cold clay its life to re-engage, friends, father, mother, and child, in another Wouldst thou call back the warbler from its state of existence; and assuredly I regard heaven,

death with very different feelings from that I To be again the tenant of a cage ?

should have done, if none of my affections

were fixed beyond the grave. To dwell upon Only that thou mightst cherish it again, the circumstances which, in this case, lessen

Wouldst thou the object of thy love recall the evil of separation would be idle; at present To mortal life, and chance, and change, and you acknowledge, and in time you will feel pain,


Southey. And death, which must be suffer'd once by all ?

DEATH-Cowardice in.

I wish to die, yet dare not death endure; Oh, no! thou sayest : oh, surely not, not so ! I read the answer which those looks express : Oh! that I'd courage but to meet my fate,

Detest the medicine, yet desire the cure. For pure and true affection well I know

That short dark passage to a future state, Leaves in the heart no room for selfishness.


DEATH-Description of. Such love of all our virtues is the gem:

We bring with us the immortal seed at birth : What is death ? oh! what is death ? Of heaven it is, and heavenly: woe to them

'Tis the snapping of the chainWho make it wholly earthly and of earth!

'Tis the breaking of the bowl

'Tis relief from ev'ry painWhat we love perfectly, for its own sake 'Tis freedom to the soul.

We love, and not our own ; being ready thus, 'Tis the setting of the sun
Whate'er self-sacrifice is ask'd, to make : To rise again to-morrow,
That which is best for it, is best for us. A brighter course to run,

Nor sink again in sorrow.
O Lucy! treasure up that pious thought; Such is death! yes, such is death!

It hath a balm for sorrow's deadliest darts,
And with true comfort thou wilt find it fraught, What is death ? oh! what is death?
If grief should reach thee in thy heart of 'Tis slumber to the weary-

Southey. Tis rest to the forlorn

"Tis shelter to the dreary

'Tis peace amid the stormTake them, O Death! and bear away

"Tis the entrance to our home Whatever thou canst call thine own;

'Tis the passage to that God Thine image, stamp'd upon this clay,

Who bids his children come Doth give thee that,—but that alone!

When their weary course is trod.

Such is death! yes, such is death! AROR. Take them, O Grave! and let them lie Folded, upon thy narrow shelves, As garments by the soul laid by,

What is death but a ceasing to be what we And precious only to ourselves !

were before? we are kindled and put out, we

die daily; nature that begot us, expels us, Take them, O great Eternity! Our little life is but a gust,

and a better and a safer place is provided for

Seneca. That bends the branches of thy tree, And trails its blossoms in the dust ! Longfellow. DEATH-Desolation caused by.

What is the worst of woes that wait on age! This is the first heavy loss which you have what stamps the wrinkle deeper on the brow! ever experienced; hereafter the bitterness of To view each loved one blotted from life's page, the cup will have passed away, and you will And be alone on earth, as I am now. Byron. then perceive its wholesomeness. This world is all to us till we suffer some such loss, and

I alone am left on earth! every such loss is a transfer of so much of our To whom nor relative nor blood remains; hearts and hopes to the next; and they who No! not a kindred drop that runs in human live long enough to see most of their friends go veins.

Campbell . before them, feel that they have more to recover by death than to lose by it. This is DEATH-the Destiny of all. not the mere speculation of a mind at ease.

I was born to die: Almost all who were about me in my childhood l 'Tis but expanding thought, and life is nothing.


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Job. steadily.

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Ages and generations pass away,

DEATH-Eternity of. And with resistless force, like waves o'er waves, where all life dies, death lives. Milton. Rolls down the irrevocable stream of time, Into the insatiate ocean of for ever. Rowe. DEATH-not an Evil.

It is impossible that anything so natural, so It is as natural to die as to be born; and to a little child, perhaps, the one is as painful as

necessary, and so universal as death, should the other. He that dies in an earnest pursuit,

ever have been designed by Providence as an evil to mankind.

Swift. is like one that is wounded in hot blood, who, for the time, scarce feels the hurt: and there

DEATH-Fears of. fore, a mind fixed and bent upon somewhat that is good, doth avert the dolours of death. 'Tis not the Stoics' lesson got by rote, But, above all, believe it, the sweetest canticle The pomp of words, and pedant dissertation, is “Nunc dimittis," when a man hath obtained That can support thee in that hour of terror. Forthy ends and expectations. Death hath Books have taught cowards to talk nobly of it; this also- that it openeth the gate of fame, But when the trial comes, they start and stand and extinguisheth envy.


Rowe. DEATH-a Divine Dispensation.

The sense of death is most in apprehension.

Shakspeare. The hand of the Lord hath wrought this; in whose band is the soul of every living thing, Neither the sun por death can be looked at and the breath of all mankind.

La Rochefoucauld. DEATH-Eloquence of.

DEATH-Film before. O Death, all-eloquent ! you only prove

There is before the eyes of men, on the What dust we dote on, when 'tis man we love. brink of dissolution, a glassy film, which death

Pope. appears to impart, that they may have a brief DEATH-the End.

prospect of eternity, when some behold the All was edded now, the hope, and the fear, and angels of light, while others have the demons the sorrow;

of darkness before them.

Cockton. All the aching of heart, the restless, unsatisfied

DEATH-of Friends. longing, All the dull deep pain, and constant anguish Friend after friend departs ;

Who hath not lost a friend ? of patience!


There is no union here of hearts, DEATH-the last Enemy.

That finds not here an end :

Were this frail world our only rest, The last enemy that shall be destroyed is Living or dying, none were blest. death.

St. Paul.

Beyond the flight of time, DEATH-Equality in.

Beyond this vale of death,

There surely is some blessed clime Death comes equally to us all, and makes us all equal when it comes. The ashes of an oak Nor life's affections transient fire,

Where life is not a breath, in a chimney are no epitaph of that, to tell me

Whose sparks fly upward and expire. bow high, or bow large, that was ; it tells me Dot what flocks it sheltered while it stood, nor There is a world above, what men it hurt when it fell. The dust of

Where parting is unknown; grent persons' graves is speechless too; it says ' A whole eternity of love, Dothing, it distinguishes nothing.

As soon Form'd for the good alone; the dust of a wretch whom thou wouldst not, 'And Faith beholds the dying here 23 of a prince whom thou couldst not look Translated to that glorious sphere. mpon, will trouble thine eyes if the wind blow it thither; and when a whirlwind hath blown Thus star by star declines, the dust of the churchyard into the church, Till all are pass'd away, and the man sweeps out the dust of the church As morning high and higher shines into the churchyard, who will undertake to sift! To pure and perfect day; those dusts again, and to pronounce, “This is Nor sink those stars in empty night, the patrician, this is the poble flower, and this They lose themselves in heaven's own light. the peoman, this the plebeian bran ?" Donne.

James Montgomery.

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DEATH-Happiness after.

DEATH-Crushing Influence of. She is gone! No longer shrinking from the

It is hard winter wind, or lifting her calm pure forehead To feel the hand of death arrest one's steps, to the summer's kiss; no longer gazing with Throw a chill blight o'er all one's budding her blue and glorious eyes into a far-off sky;

hopes, no longer yearning with a holy heart for And hurl one's soul untimely to the shades, heaven; no longer toiling painfully along the Lost in the gaping gulf of blank oblivion. path, upward and upward, to the everlasting

Kirke White. rock on which are based the walls of the city

DEATH-Joy of. of the Most High; no longer here; she is

My joy is death ! there ; gazing, seeing, knowing, loving, as the Death, at whose name I oft bave been afear'd, blessed only see, and know, and love.

Because I wish'd this world's eternity! Earth has one angel less, and heaven one

Shakspeare. more, since yesterday. Already, kneeling at DEATH-the great Liberator, the throne, she has received her welcome, and is resting on the bosom of her Saviour. If the gate of envy after it; it unlooses the chain

Death opens the gate of fame, and shuts human love have power to penetrate the veil (and hath it not ?) , then there are yet living of the captive, and puts the bondsman's task

Sternen here a few who have the blessedness of know. into another man's hand. ing that an angel loves them. Hawthorn.

Death is the liberator of him whom freedom DEATH-& quiet Haven.

cannot release, the physician of him whom

medicine cannot cure, and the comforter of What is death

bim whom time cannot console. Colton. To him who meets it with an upright heart? A quiet haven, where his shatter'd bark

DEATH-Loveliness in, Harbours secure, till the rough storm is past.

No tears; for Death Perhaps a passage, overhung with clouds

Saw thee when loveliest, and his icy touch But at its entrance; a few leagues beyond

Preserves thy look for ever. It is well: Opening to kinder skies and milder suns,

The only things that change not are the dead. And seas pacific as the soul that seeks them.

Now thou art safe from Time's defacing hand,

Hurdis. DEATH-Indifference to.

From staling custom, and, sadder far than all,

From human fickleness. In after-years, Men in general do not live as if they looked It might be—I would scarce have follow'd to die; and therefore do not die as if they thee looked to live.

Manton. A mourner to the grave. Thou art so fair,

That, gazing on thee, clamorous grief becomes, DEATH-Inexorability of.

For very reverence, mute. If mighty Death Death, thou art he that will not flatter princes, Divinely fair as thine, 0 never more

Made our rude human faces by his touch That stoops not to authority, nor gives

Would strong hearts break o'er biers. There A specious name to tyranny; but shows Our actions in their own deformed likeness.

sleeps to-night

A sacred sweetness on thy silent lips,

A solemn light upon thy ample brow,

That I can never, never hope to find Oh! just and mighty Death! What none

Upon a living face.

Smith. have dared, thou hast done; and whom all the world have flattered, thou alone hast cast DEATH-Lowliness of. out of the world, and despised: thou hast

How pale appear drawn together all the far-fetched greatness, Those clay-cold cheeks, where grace and vigour all the cruelty and ambition of man, and

glow'd! covered it all over with these two Dorrow

O dismal spectacle !-How humble now word, Hic jacet. Raleigh. Lies that ambition which was late so proud!

Smollet. Leaves have their time to fall,

DEATH-the Moment of. And flowers to wither at the north wind's There lies my friend. He hastens to depart. breath,

Death is upon him. The change has well-nigh And stars set; but all

How little intervenes between his Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O present humiliations and his awaiting glories ! Death!

Mrs. Hemans. I tremble to think what in an instant he must


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be! how unlike all he was ! how extreme to And mark'd the mild angelic air,
all he is! I bend over thee, and mark thy The rapture of repose that's there,
wasted, pallid frame:- I look up, and there is The fix'd yet tender traits that streak
ascending above me an angel's form! stoop The languor of the placid cheek,
to thee, and just can catch thy feeble, gasping And, but for that sad shrouded eye,
whisper :- I listen, and there floats around That fires not, wins not, weeps not, now;
me a seraph's song! I take thy hand, tremu- And but for that still changeless brow,
13 and cold :-it is waving to me from Where cold obstruction's apathy
yonder skies! I wipe thy brow, damp and Appals the gazing mourner's heart
furrowed :-it is enwreathed with the garland As if to him it could impart
of victory! I slake thy lip, bloodless and The doom he dreads, yet dwells upon.
parcher :-it is drinking the living fountains, Yes, but for these, and these alone,
the overflowing springs of heaven!

Some moments, ay, one treacherous hour,
Dr. Richard Winter Hamilton. He still might doubt the tyrant's power;

So fair, so calm, so softly seal’d,
DEATH-Mysteries beyond.

The first, last look by death reveal'd!
Dear, beauteous Death, the jewel of the just,
Shining no where but in the dark,

So coldly sweet, so deadly fair,
What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust,

We start, for soul is wanting there. Byron. Could man outlook that mark ! He that hath found some fledged bird's nest may know

We thought her dying when she slept, At first sight if the bird be flown;

And sleeping when she died.

Bat what fair field or grove he sings in now-
That is to him unknown.

And yet, as angels in some brighter dreams And thou art dead, as young and fair
Call to the soul when man doth sleep,

As aught of mortal birth;
So some strange thoughts transcend our

And form so soft, and charms so rare, wonted themes,

Too soon returu'd to earth!
And into glory peep. Henry Vaughan. Though earth received them in her bed,

And o'er the spot the crowd may tread
DEATH-Mystery of.

In carelessness or mirth, O Death ! thou strange, mysterious power,

There is an eye which could not brook

Byron. seen every day, yet never understood but by A moment on that grave to look. | the incommunicative dead, what art thou ?

DEATH-Premonitions of.

Lillo. DEATH-Passage of.

What is it that sometimes speaks in the Passing through nature to eternity.

soul so calmly, so clearly, that its earthly Shakspeare.

time is short? Is it the secret instinct of DEATH-Peace of.

decaying nature, or the soul's impulsive throb, Ah! sweetly they slumber, nor love, hope, it rested in the heart—a calm, sweet, prophetic

as immortality draws on ? Be it what it may, nor fear, Peace, peace is the watchword, the only one

certainty that heaven was near; calm as the here.

Herbert Knowles.

light of sunset, sweet as the bright stillness of

autumn. There her little heart reposed, only DEATH-the Pioneers of.

troubled by sorrow for those who loved her so

dearly. Our dying friends are pioneers to smoothe

Mrs. Stowe. | ou rigged path to death, to break those bars ! Of terror and abhorrence Nature throws

The first symptom of approaching death with Cross our obstructed way, and thus to make

some is the strong presentiment that they are Welcome, as safe, our port from every storm. about to die.

Young. Ozanam, the mathematician, while in appaDEATH-Placidity of.

rent health, rejected pupils, from the feeling He who bath bent him o'er the dead,

that he was on the eve of resting from his Ere the first day of death is fled,

labours ; and he expired soon after, of an apo | The first dark day of nothingness,

pletic stroke. | The last of danger and distress

Fletcher, the divine, had a dream which Before decay's effacing fingers

sha lowed out his impending dissolution, and Have swept the lines where beauty lingers), believing it to be the merciful warning of

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