  ——— Dear father Brown, the great, the good, The noble leader of our race; With task complete his spirit fled, To heaven, its final resting place, And there in peace it shall remain, Securely wrapped from care and pain; His body ’neath sweet roses sleeps, An angel o’er him vigil keeps. Weeping for one so dearly loved, Too soon it seems we had to part; To see him hid beneath the clay, Sharp sorrow fills the aching heart, It seems I see him on the stand, Fain I could hear him give command; And with his outstretched, loving arm, Imploring people to reform. Think of the great work he has done, Behold the great reformer’s hand; Ten thousand marching to and fro, To seek, to help, to lend a hand, Thy life has not been spent in vain, Thy deeds are monuments of fame; Thy name from earth will ne’er depart, ’Tis graved with kindness on the heart. No more to meet us here on earth, The noble impulse thou hast given; Until we, too, are called to heaven. Beneath the clods is it the last, Oh, no, the memory of the past; As Bethlehem star the wise men led, His light will lead us though he is dead. |
|
