A Grave Beside a Stream.

Rev. vii. 17.

How strange the union of the stream and grave !1
Eternal motion and eternal rest ;2
Earth’s billow fixed, beside the transient wave3
Upon the water’s breast.4
The summer cloud upon the height distils5
Each sunny ripple hurrying swiftly past ;6
And man’s proud life, like fleeting vapour, fills7
This wave of earth at last.8
The streamlet, through the churchyard’s solemn calm,9
Sounds like an ancient prophet’s voice of faith,10
Chanting beside the grave a glorious psalm11
Of life in midst of death.12
The living water and the burial mound13
Proclaim in parable, that through death’s sleep14
Flows on for aye, though none may hear its sound,15
Life’s river still and deep.16
The grave like Laban’s “ heap of witness” seems,17
Raised ’twixt the sleeper and the world’s alarm,18
O’er which no anxious cares or evil dreams19
May pass to do him harm.20
No more he wrestles by the brook of life ;21
The night is past—the Angel stands revealed ;22
He now enjoys the blessing wrung from strife,23
And every wound is healed.24