6 Behold, sad emblem of thy state! The flowers that paint the field; Or trees that crown the mountain's brow, And boughs and blossoms yield. 7 When chill the blast of Winter blows, Away the Summer flies, The flowers resign their sunny robes, And all their beauty dies. 8 Nipt by the year the forest fades; And shaking to the wind, The leaves toss to and fro, and streak The wilderness behind. 9 The Winter past, reviving flowers Anew shall paint the plain, The woods shall hear the voice of Spring, And flourish green again. 10 But man departs this earthly scene, Ah! never to return! No second Spring shall e'er revive The ashes of the urn. 11 The inexorable doors of death What hand can e'er unfold? Who from the cerements of the tomb Can raise the human mould? 12 The mighty flood that rolls along Its torrents to the main, The waters lost can ne'er recall From that abyss again. 13 The days, the years, the ages, dark Descending down to night, Can never, never be redeemed Back to the gates of light. 14 So man departs the living scene, To night's perpetual gloom; The voice of morning ne'er shall break The slumbers of the tomb. 15 Where are our fathers? Whither gone The mighty men of old? The patriarchs, prophets, princes, kings, In sacred books enrolled? 16 Gone to the resting-place of man, The everlasting home, Where ages past have gone before, Where future ages come, 17 Thus nature poured the wail of woe, And urged her earnest cry; Her voice, in agony extreme, Ascended to the sky. 18 The Almighty heard: then from his throne In majesty he rose; And from the heaven, that opened wide, His voice in mercy flows: 19 'When mortal man resigns his breath, And falls a clod of clay, The soul immortal wings its flight To never-setting day. 20 'Prepared of old for wicked men The bed of torment lies; The just shall enter into bliss Immortal in the skies.' THOMAS BLACKLOCK.