Hammond's Grave

Meek , pastoral, quiet souls, whoe'er ye be,
Who love to ply in peace your daily task,
Nor of your gracious God find aught to ask,
But what may help you in Eternity.
Kind spirits, sooth'd and cheer'd by all you meet,
Soothing and cheering all yourselves no less,
Because in all ye see ye own and bless
A God who loves you, and accepts your love:
Would ye find out a fitting tomb? These firs,
Their sea-like dirge soft whispering day and night,
Hither your weary wandering steps invite.
These yew-trees' massive shade, that hardly stirs
On the grey tomb-stones: all the still churchyard,
Not mingling with the haunts of men, yet seen
From some few cottage-windows o'er the green,
(As if just so much of the world it shared,
As might wake Charity, and silence Pride,)
Come take your rest with these, by holy Hammond's side.
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