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BOYS OF THE BIBLE.

But, when the warrior dieth,
His comrades of the war,

With arms reversed and muffled drums,
Follow the funeral car;

They show the banners taken;
They tell his battles won;

And after him lead his masterless steed,
While peals the minute gun.

Amid the noblest of the land
Men lay the sage to rest,
And give the bard an honored place,
With costly marbles drest,
In the great minster transcept
Where lights like glories fall,
And the sweet choir sings and the organ rings
Along the emblazoned hall.

This was the bravest warrior
That ever buckled sword;
This the most gifted poet
That ever breathed a word;
And never earth’s philosopher
Traced with his golden pen
On the deathless page truths half so sage
As he wrote down for men.

And had he not high honor?—
The hillside for a pall!
To lie in state while angels wait,
With stars for tapers tall !
And the dark rock-pines, like tossing plumes,
Over his bier to wave,
And God’s own hand in that lonely land,
To lay him in his grave !—

In that strange grave without a name,
Whence his uncoffined clay

Shall break again—O wondrous thought !—
Before the judgment-day,

And stand with glory wrapped around,
On the hills he never trod,

And speak of the strife that won our life
With the incarnate Son of God.