Rev. William Dodd

When sharp affliction wounds the heart,
Which pants for quick relief;
Say, what can ease the raging smart
And agony of grief?

What! but religion, sweetest maid,
That e'er to earth was giv'n;
She, mild physician, brings her aid,
Immediately from Heav'n.

In that sad hour, when o'er the bier,
Compassion, mourning hung,
And sympathy distill'd the tear
Of Nature, for her Son;

Then she, benevolently kind,
Apply'd her sov'reign rod;
Check'd grief's excess, and taught the mind,
Submission unto God.

Yet tears may fall, thou gen'rous man!
Well temper'd they are wise—
For what is life? 'tis but a span,
And Dodd's above the skies.

Then, 'on the wings of Hope ascend,
To that immortal seat;
Where charity shall never end,
And amity's compleat.
Aug. 3, 1777.