108 BAXTER~S· POEMS'~ My grave and coffin are at hand ~ lVIy glass bath but a little sand. Now I am writing; and anon They '11 also say of me, he's gone~ Then I shall see the shining face, Vi'hich is the glory·of your place. But lest in vain I hope and run, Lonl, perfect what thou hast begun r A DIALOGUE BETWEEN DEATH AND THE BELIEVER.. A Rustic Song, set to a pleasant tune. Death. CoME with me, poor mortal, Quickly come away: My name is dreadful Death .. ..fhrough this :narmw portal Come without delay; For here I '11 stop thy breath~ · Presently my dart Shall pierce thee to the heart, And away thy HJe I'll have ~ It is in vain to fly, Or any friend to try: For there's none that can thee save. Believer. Welcome, friendly Death; What canst thou do to me, That I have cause to fear ? Though thou sha1t stop my breath, Yet I in life shall be, When thou shalt not he there~
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