Thou, who canst change the heart and raise the dead! As Thou art by to soothe our parting hour, Be ready when we meet With thy dear pardoning words. 60 _John Keble._ CCLIV _THE SLEEP._ Of all the thoughts of God that are Borne inward into souls afar, Along the Psalmist’s music deep, Now tell me if that any is For gift or grace surpassing this-- 5 ‘He giveth his belovèd, sleep’? What would we give to our beloved? The hero’s heart to be unmoved, The poet’s star-tuned harp to sweep, The patriot’s voice to teach and rouse, 10 The monarch’s crown to light the brows?-- He giveth his belovèd, sleep. What do we give to our beloved? A little faith all undisproved, A little dust to overweep, 15 And bitter memories to make The whole earth blasted for our sake: He giveth his belovèd, sleep. ‘Sleep soft, beloved!’ we sometimes say, Who have no tune to charm away 20 Sad dreams that through the eyelids creep: But never doleful dream again Shall break the happy slumber, when He giveth his belovèd, sleep. O earth, so full of dreary noises! 25 O men, with wailing in your voices! O delvèd gold, the wailers heap! O strife, O curse, that o’er it fall! God strikes a silence through you all, And giveth his belovèd, sleep. 30 His dews drop mutely on the hill, His cloud above it saileth still, Though on its slope men sow and reap: More softly than the dew is shed, Or cloud is floated overhead, 35 He giveth his belovèd, sleep. Ay, men may wonder while they scan A living, thinking, feeling man, Confirmed in such a rest to keep; But angels say, and through the word 40 I think their happy smile is heard,-- ‘He giveth his belovèd, sleep.’ For me, my heart that erst did go Most like a tired child at a show, That sees through tears the mummers leap, 45 Would now its wearied vision close, Would childlike on his love repose, Who giveth his belovèd, sleep. And friends, dear friends, when it shall be That this low breath is gone from me, 50 And round my bier ye come to weep, Let one, most loving of you all, Say, ‘Not a tear must o’er her fall! ‘He giveth his belovèd, sleep.’ _Elizabeth Barrett Browning._ CCLV _TO THE MEMORY OF MY VENERABLE GRANDFATHER-IN-LAW, SAMUEL MARTIN, WHO WAS TAKEN FROM US IN THE SIXTY-EIGHTH YEAR OF HIS MINISTRY._