Fountain of life, supernal Fire, Who didst unite in wondrous wise The soul that lives, the clay that dies, And mad'st them Man: eternal Sire, | Both elements Thy will obey, Thine is the bond that joins the twain, And, while united they remain, Spirit and body own Thy sway. | Yet they must one day disunite, Sunder in death this mortal frame; Dust to the dust from whence it came, The spirit to its heavenward flight. | For all created things must wane, And age must break the bond at last; The diverse web that Life held fast Death's fingers shall unweave again. | Yet, gracious God, Thou dost devise The death of Death for all Thine own; The path of safety Thou hast shown Whereby the doomèd limbs may rise: | So that, while fragile bonds of earth Man's noblest essence still enfold, That part may yet the sceptre hold Which from pure aether hath its birth. | For if the earthy will hold sway, By gross desires and aims possessed, The soul, too, by the weight oppressed, Follows the body's downward way. | But if she scorn the guilt that mars-- Still mindful of her fiery sphere-- She bears the flesh, her comrade here, Back to her home beyond the stars. | The lifeless body we restore To earth, must slumber free from pain A little while, that it may gain The spirit's fellowship once more. | The years will pass with rapid pace Till through these limbs the life shall flow, And the long-parted spirit go To seek her olden dwelling-place. | Then shall the body, that hath lain And turned to dust in slow decay, On airy wings be borne away And join its ancient soul again. | Therefore our tenderest care we spend Upon the grave: and mourners go With solemn dirge and footstep slow-- Love's last sad tribute to a friend. | With fair white linen we enfold The dear dead limbs, and richest store Of Eastern unguents duly pour Upon the body still and cold. | Why hew the rocky tomb so deep, Why raise the monument so fair, Save that the form we cherish there Is no dead thing, but laid to sleep? | This is the faithful ministry Of Christian men, who hold it true That all shall one day live anew Who now in icy slumber lie. | And he whose pitying hand shall lay Some friendless outcast 'neath the sod, E'en to the almighty Son of God Doth that benignant service pay. | For this same law doth bid us mourn Man's common fate, when strangers die, And pay the tribute of a sigh, As when our kin to rest are borne. | Of holy Tobit ye have read, (Grave father of a pious son), Who, though the feast was set, would run To do his duty by the dead. | Though waiting servants stood around, From meat and drink he turned away And girt himself in haste to lay The bones with weeping in the ground. | Soon Heaven his righteous zeal repays With rich reward; the eyes long blind In bitter gall strange virtue find And open to the sun's clear rays. | Thus hath our Heavenly Father shown How sharp and bitter is the smart When sudden on the purblind heart The Daystar's healing light is thrown. | He taught us, too, that none may gaze Upon the heavenly demesne Ere that in darkness and in pain His feet have trod the world's rough ways. | So unto death itself is given Strange bliss, when mortal agony Opens the way that leads on high And pain is but the path to Heaven. | Thus to a far serener day Our body from the grave returns; Eternal life within it burns That knows nor languor nor decay. | These faces now so pinched and pale, That marks of lingering sickness show, Then fairer than the rose shall glow And bloom with youth that ne'er shall fail. | Ne'er shall crabbed age their beauty dim With wrinkled brow and tresses grey, Nor arid leanness eat away The vigour of the rounded limb. | Racked with his own destroying pains Shall fell Disease, who now attacks Our aching frames, his force relax Fast fettered in a thousand chains: | While from its far celestial throne The immortal body, victor now, Shall watch its old tormentor bow And in eternal tortures groan. | Why do the clamorous mourners wail In bootless sorrow murmuring? And why doth grief unreasoning God's righteous ordinance assail? | Hushed be your voices, ye that mourn; Ye weeping mothers, dry the tear; Let none lament for children dear, For man through Death to Life is born. | So do dry seeds grow green again, Now dead and buried in the earth, And rising to a second birth Clothe as of old the verdant plain. | Take now, O earth, the load we bear, And cherish in thy gentle breast This mortal frame we lay to rest, The poor remains that were so fair. | For they were once the soul's abode, That by God's breath created came; And in them, like a living flame, Christ's precious gift of wisdom glowed. | Guard thou the body we have laid Within thy care, till He demand The creature fashioned by His hand And after His own image made. | The appointed time soon may we see When God shall all our hopes fulfil, And thou must render to His will Unchanged the charge we give to thee. | For though consumed by mould and rust Man's body slowly fades away, And years of lingering decay Leave but a handful of dry dust; | Though wandering winds, that idly fly, Should his disparted ashes bear Through all the wide expanse of air, Man may not perish utterly. | Yet till Thou dost build up again This mortal structure by Thy hand, In what far world wilt Thou command The soul to rest, now free from stain? | In Abraham's bosom it shall dwell 'Mid verdant bowers, as Lazarus lies Whom Dives sees with longing eyes From out the far-off fires of hell. | We trust the words our Saviour said When, victor o'er grim Death, he cried To him who suffered at His side "In Mine own footsteps shalt thou tread." | See, open to the faithful soul, The shining paths of Paradise; Now may they to that garden rise Which from mankind the Serpent stole. | Guide him, we pray, to that blest bourn, Who served Thee truly here below; May he the bliss of Eden know, Who strayed in banishment forlorn. | But we will honour our dear dead With violets and garlands strown, And o'er the cold and graven stone Shall fragrant odours still be shed. | |