The Death Of The Righteous
By Lydia Sigourney
I look’d upon the righteous man,
And saw his parting breath,
Without a struggle or a sigh
Yield peacefully to Death,
There was no anguish on his brow,
No terror in his eye,
The Spoiler launch’d a fatal dart,
But lost the victory.
I look’d upon the righteous man,
And heard the holy prayer
Which rose above that breathless clay
To soothe the mourner’s care,
And felt how precious was the gift,
He to his dear ones gave,
The stainless memory of the just,
The wealth beyond the grave.
I look’d upon the righteous man,
And all our earthly trust,
Its pleasure—vanity, and pride,
Seem’d lighter than the dust,
Compar’d with his eternal gain,
A home above the sky!—
O grant us, Lord, his life to live,
That we his death may die.
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