Simeon of old the temple sought,
And in his arms the Saviour caught:
     "Lord, I have seen thy grace,"
The saint exclaim'd, with rapture fir'd,
As from the altar he retir'd.
     Then left the world in peace.

So FULLER sunk. - How keen the blow.
Say, mourning Church, whose sorrows flow.
     Around your Pastor dead -
FRIENDS, who enjoy'd his counsel, say
What friendship, counsel, torn away,
     With his pure spirit fled.

Moum, lndia, moum! your friend's no more!
Let Ganges weep o'er ev'ry shore,
     And make your sorrows known:
Yet not despair - your Champion's GOD
For ever lives. - Adore his rod.
     And bow before his throne.

Ask, and he'll other friends inspire,
To track his chariot of fire,
     And catch his falling vest:
Then in the Prophet's footsteps tread,
Abroad redeeming love to spread,
     Till all your sons are blest.

Muse! take thy lyre - thy strains renew,
Forget the sad - the joyful view, -
     The SPIRIT in the skies:
Weep, yet rejoice, for glory shines
Around the grave where he reclines,
     And angels watch the prize.

Plorator
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