I have to lay me down and die. Poor Mary lies on
Shupanga brae, 'and beeks fornent the sun.'"

"He who is over all" decreed that while his heart should lie in a leafy
forest, in such a spot as he loved, his bones should repose in a great
Christian temple, where many, day by day, as they read his name, would
recall his noble Christian life, and feel how like he was to Him of whom
it is written: "The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me; because the Lord
hath anointed me to preach good tidings to the meek: He hath sent me to
bind up the broken-hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the
opening of the prison to them that are bound; to proclaim the acceptable
year of the Lord, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all
that mourn; to appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them
beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for
the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of
righteousness, the planting of the Lord; that He might be glorified."

"Droop half-mast colors, bow, bareheaded crowds,
As this plain coffin o'er the side is slung,
To pass by woods of masts and ratlined shrouds,
As erst by Afric's trunks, liana-hung.

'Tis the last mile of many thousands trod
With failing strength but never-failing will,
By the worn frame, now at its rest with God,
That never rested from its fight with ill.

Or if the ache of travel and of toil
Would sometimes wring a short, sharp cry of pain
From agony of fever, blain, and boil,
'Twas but to crush it down and on again!

He knew not that the trumpet he had blown
Out of the darkness of that dismal land,
Had reached and roused an army of its own
To strike the chains from the slave's fettered hand.

Now we believe, he knows, sees all is well;
How God had stayed his will and shaped his way,
To bring the light to those that darkling dwell
With gains that life's devotion well repay.

Open the Abbey doors and bear him in
To sleep with king and statesman, chief and sage,
The missionary come of weaver-kin,
But great by work that brooks no lower wage.

He needs no epitaph to guard a name
Which men shall prize while worthy work is known;
He lived and died for good--be that his fame:
Let marble crumble: this is Living--stone."--_Punch_.

Eulogiums on the dead a