May every branch of this vigorous tree,
Increase and spread wider from mountain to sea,
And under its shade may the poor and distressed
Find shelter and comfort and kindness and rest,
And when the great harvest we read of shall come
When the angels shall gather and carry it home
May this tree root and branch, trunk and fruit all be found,
Transplanted from earth into holier ground,
Where storms never rise and where frosts never blight,
Where day ever shines unsucceeded by night,
Where sickness and sorrow and death are no more,
And friends never part. On that beautiful shore,
May we hope that the friends who have met round this board,
And greeted each other in social accord,
May each meet the others to part never more.
LINES
Written on the death of Jane Flounders, a pupil of Cherry Hill
public school, and read at her funeral.
The mysteries of life and death,
Lie hidden from all human ken,
We know it is the vital breath
Of God, that makes us living men.
We also know, _that_ breath withdrawn,
And man becomes a lifeless clod,
The soul immortal having gone
Into the presence of its God.
Here knowledge fails and faith appears,
And bids us dry the scalding tear,
And banish all our anxious fears,
Which cluster round the loved ones here.
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