But when distinguish’d excellence we mourn,
Deep is the sorrow, genuine is the tear.
Stranger! should’st thou approach this awful shrine,
The merits of the honour’d dead to seek;
The friend, the son, the Christian, the divine,
Let those who knew him, those who lov’d him, speak.
O let him in some pause of anguish say,
What zeal inflam’d, what faith enlarg’d his breast;
How glad th’ unfetter’d spirit wing’d its way
From earth to heav’n, from blessing to be blest!

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