or's blood.
He journeyed on for many years,
Amidst temptations, doubts, and fears,
But found a pard'ning God.

His lustrous eyes are dim in death,
His voice passed like the zephyr's breath,
That heart has lost its lone;
But while we weep around his dust,
That soul its prison doors hath burst,
And worships 'round the throne.

But shall we murmur and complain?
Shall our warm tears descend like rain
Around his early grave?
While kindred dear must weep and mourn,
More sacred tears bedew his urn
Than ever friendship gave.

That brother, who with him has played
Beside the brook, or in the shade
Where feathered warblers sang,
And sported by the river side,
Or o'er the ice taught him to glide,
While merry laughter rang--

His love increased with growing years,
One were their hopes, their joys, their fears,
Their Savior, too, was one.
That brother's grief must be severe,
Yet from his lips we hope to hear,
"My Father's will be done."

Like ivy, round some youthful pine,
Did Julia's warm affections twine
Round his fraternal heart;
Through adverse scenes they struggled long,
Which rendered nature's ties more strong,
But they, alas! must part.

Should fell disease assail her now,
Place his pale signet on her brow,
And chill her heart with fear;
No more he'd stand beside her bed,--
Bathe her parched lips, and aching head,
And strive her mind to cheer.

She'll range the paths where they have strayed,
And wander through the silent shade,
And ask, "is brother here?"
She'll view the grave, and that will say
There's naught within but mould'ring clay,
No more will he appear.

That sister, who hath sought a friend
To share her grief till time shall end,
Must still in tears be drowned;
Although a partner soothes her grief,
And kindly strives to give relief,
And children cluster round;--

She sees their glossy ringlets flow,
In clusters o'er each little brow;
They speak of days gone by,
When she with brother often strayed,
O'er hill and dale and flow'ry glade,
Where golden sunbeams lie.

A fair young friend, whose aching heart
Now feels affliction's keenest dart,
Must long in sadness weep;
Her brightest hopes are fled away,
Alas! her sweetest joys decay,
They in the grave must sle