In Memory of Samuel Austin

A living Faith, that nursed for years,
   Stikes deep its roots and comes to bloom,
Is strong against the tide of tears
   That flow before an opening tomb.
When at the door is heard the knock
   Of Death’s inevitable tread,
The spirit feels no sudden shick
   Long fortressed from that hour of dread.
The shadow of a hovering ill
   Hangs o’er us, a familiar guest;
But heaven’s broad light surrounds it still,
   Its luminous bound made manifest.

The eyes bent down behold the clod,
   Half blinded by its dust to dust;
The lifted eyes meet beams from God —
   The sunshine of immortal trust.
But human love that, face to face,
   Held long communion with its own,
Turned sadly to the vacant place,
   Shudders to feel itself alone!
Will Wisdom, bowing to that Cross,
   Accepts the ministry of pain,
And bids the soul, against its loss,
   To count its ever-during gain!

Then Memory, allied to Faith,
   Shall lift the mourner from the earth
To see, beyond the reach of Death,
   The imperishable work and worth —
A life resigned to noble use:
   A Pleader for the reign of Peace —
That sceptered wrong and old abuse,
   And every chartered crime should cease!

He gave his ripest years the task
   Of pouring light on darkened minds,
Where groping ignorance came to ask
   The boon that earnest seeking finds.
And toiling brothers bless the Friend
   Who bent the boughs on Learning’s tree
Within their reach — even to the end
   Assiduous to make knowledge free!

No grief can long survive the thought
   That he we mourn still lives on high,
And lives below in all he wrought —
   A vital good that cannot die.