Truth crushed to earth shall rise again,- The eternal years of God are hers; But Error, wounded, writhes with pain, And dies among his worshippers.

I shall seeThe hour of death draw near to me,Hope, blossoming within my heart. . . .

Christ taught an astonishing thing about physical death: not merely that it is an experience robbed of its terror but that as an experience it does not exist at all. To "sleep in Christ," like one that wraps the drapery of his couch about him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.

Remorse is virtue's root; its fair increase is fruits of innocence and blessedness.

Sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.

Virtue cannot dwell with slaves, nor reign O'er those who cower to take a tyrant's yoke.

All that tread, the globe are but a handful to the tribes, that slumber in its bosom.