Thine is a lonely way,
Christian!--and dangers all thy path infest;
Pitfalls and snares crowd all thy doubtful way,--
Where is thy place of rest?
God is my Refuge!--safe in Him I move,
And feel no fear, kept by sustaining Love.
IV.
The grave--that dreary place,
Christian, the lonely dwelling in the dust
Awaits thee; 'tis the doom of all thy race,--
Where, then, shall be thy trust?
God is my refuge! Sweet will be my rest
On the dear pillow that my Saviour pressed!
V.
Alas!--that dreamless sleep--
Christian, its chains are strong, and hard to break;
All thy belov'd sleep on in silence deep,
And dost _thou_ hope to wake?
God is my refuge! I shall wake and sing--
"O grave! where is thy vict'ry?--death thy sting?"
JUDSON'S GRAVE.
He sleeps where the billow
Lifts high its white crest
O'er his lone, sea-weed pillow
On Ocean's dark breast;
No shroud is around him,
No flowers bloom above,
No mourners surround him
With grief-drops of love.
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