Death A Refuge

Death A Refuge

Yes, down into the tomb!—
Down, down I say,
To its dark depths!
I do not fear its gloom,
And for its shelter
Earnestly I pray.

The world is hideous—
Heaven seems afar;
Despair o'ershadows me;
Its darkness to dispel,
Hope has no kindly star.

Ah, me! how frail
Are idols mad of clay!
How son the soul
Deserts them, leaving dust,
And for thy high faith,
A poor, broken trust!

The worship wildly poured
Out at some dearest shrine,
Incense to its great heart,
Turns darkly back to thine—
Turns back to thine,
A bitter stream,
Bearing the wrecks
Of many a dream.

And the soul, all too meek
To bide the o'ersweeping flood,
A hapless victim sinks—
Snks neath the waves,
Buried with all its goods.

Oh! let me in the tomb
From such dire fate,
Find blessed refuge,
Whence can come no hate,
Nor unto hate's fell doom!

Miss A.E. Chancellor

1:40, p. 1

4.21.1860