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The Dying Saint.

I am lucky enough to have in my personal library a book entitled ‘The Mourner’s Friend or Sighs of Sympathy For Those Who Sorrow’. It is a collection of prose and verse compiled to give comfort to the grieving. Edited by J.B. Syme, published in 1852 by S.A. Howland in Worcester, Mass, USA; its contents are by American and European authors and some surprising famous names. My copy of the book has some water damage, ageing paper, and precarious binding, so before it deteriorates my project to preserve the words of the authors will find its way here on the MOLAM blog. 

The Dying Saint.

HEAR ye, from yonder couch, the struggling breath,
That tells of weakness and the hour of death ?
It is the good man’s death. But mark his air ;
The calm of resignation settles there.
No dread of death ; the terror and the gloom,
Are not for those who look beyond the tomb.
Faith penetrates the dark and deep ; her eye
Beams full and bright with immortality.
No dread of death ; the messenger of peace,
Death comes to give the Christian his release ;
Death comes to burst the fetter and the chain.
For him to live was Christ, to dies is gain ;
How vast the gain, no language may disclose, –
How vast that gain, the saint in glory knows ;
The joy unspeakable which evermore,
The ransomed ones shall taste on Cannaan’s shore.
The ransomed ones, by Jesus’ blood forgiven,
The called, the sanctified, shall enter heaven ;
The saved from death, from woe, and every sigh,
Shall swell the loud hosannas of the sky.

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