SOON the pale Scholar learneth that the star And fain would deeply of its sweets have quaffed, Departed friend! thy brethren all have passed AN EXTRACT. Yet as the traveller at the close of day 103 Will pause to view the darkening landscape round In memory's dream, those scenes we walked with you. I oft have sat at that still hour, when slow And the rank church-yard weed waves mournful o'er thy head. REV. ROBERT WYMAN, GRADUATE OF THE CLASS OF 1838, Joined the Ceylon Mission in 1842. Died on his homeward passage in 1845. BY THE EDITOR. Far-far from this bright land He hasted away, To tell in the night-land The breaking of day; To herald the story Of Calvary's woe, The triumph of glory, The grave's overthrow. Where soft gales are winging But sin is yet flinging The "shadow of death": REV. ROBERT WYMAN. 105 Where cool waters bursting From 'neath the green earth, Still leave the soul thirsting, To pine in its dearth; There toiled he to lighten O'er lands dark and dreary, The hope of the weary, But mourn ye dark dwellers From toil with his fellows He rests evermore. Down fathoms unnumbered Beneath the deep sea, Where thousands have slumbered, There slumbereth he. Yet hearts have enshrined him, An eye that shall find him, Beneath the commotion In India's deep ocean, His rest he is taking, Till glory's bright morn Shall bring his awaking,Immortally born. The wild waves are tramping, The rude tempest blows, Yet angels encamping Guard all his repose. Then weep not to leave him, Since Mercy hath said. Your faith shall receive him Again from the dead.' |