Giddings Family e-bog

Whilst the greatest effort has been made to ensure the quality of this text, due to the historical nature of this content, in some rare cases there may be minor issues with legibility. The golden sun,<br>The planets, all the infinite host of heaven<br>Are shining on the sad abodes of death<br>Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread<br>The globe are but a handful to the tribes<br>That slumber in its bosom.<br>So shall thou rest, - and what if thou shall fall<br>Unnoticed by the living, and no friend<br>Take note of thy departure? All that breathe<br>Will share thy destiny.<br>So live, that when thy summons comes to join<br>The innumerable caravan that moves<br>To the pale realms of shade, where each shall take<br>His chamber in the silent halls of death,<br>Thou go not like the quarry-slave at night,<br>Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed<br>By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave<br>Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch<br>About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.