| Citation |
NHG-P.770.042
12 Oct 1770:31, 32 (730)
Boston, October 8. Since our last we are favoured with a
few particulars of the death and funeral of the late Rev'd
and pious Mr. Whitefield, which we doubt not will be
acceptable to our readers.
. . . [37 lines, 9 lines]
Lo, ere the stars their feebler twinkling lose,
Or day's bright lamp his morning task renew,
Forth with his God attend to chearful praise,
Th' enraptur'd saint his early tribute pays!
Love, prayer, and thanks, on chaunting lips abound,
While heav'n rings vocal with th' aspiring sound;
Thus, sweet communion! Souls responsive join,
And earth anticipates a feast divine.
But ah! while yet th' expanding heart o'erflows,
And swol'n with zeal th' impassion'd bosom glows
See the clog'd chest with less'ning pulse decrease,
While with thick sobs life's lab'ring bellows wheeze:
See, death's pale mantle blight the sick'ning clay,
Close the dim eye, and fasde the rising day!
Chill'd are those hands that once attention drew,
And quiv'ring shook the' enfeebl'd convict through:
Still! is that voice, which once with music rung,
On whose soft accent crowds enchanted hung!
. . . [12 lines of verse, 6 lines about the commemoration of
his death]
Mr. Draper, the following lines were spoken extempore on
hearing of the death of that truly pious and devout man of
God, the Rev. George Whitefield, by a layman.
Renowned Whitefield, dead! This cannot be:
He's only stept into immortality,
In realms of bliss; where great Jehovah reigns,
There to receive rewards for all his pains,
Nor mourn his loss; man's life is but a span;
Regret your loss; he's far the happier man.
. . . [9 lines]
This afternoon will be publish'd and sold at the
Printing-Office, a hymn composed by the Rev. Mr. Whitefield,
and intended to be sung over his corps, if he had died in
England, by a number of orphans; together with some verses
on the death of that great man.
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