In Memoriam. - Rev. Henry Albertson Post,

Died at Warrensburgh, New York, November 12th, 1861, aged 26.


[1]Read me rejoicing Psalms,
    Oh dearest one, and best!
I go from war to peace,
    From pain to glorious rest,

Where the bright life-tree sheds
    Around its precious balms,
So, while I linger here
    Read me rejoicing psalms.

And when my place I take
    Amid the ransom'd throng
Who through a Saviour's love
    Uplift the immortal song,

Repress the tear of grief
    That washes faith away,
And brave in zeal and love
    Await our meeting-day.

Yes, let thy course below
    Through all its fleeting days
In its angelic ministries
    Be as a psalm of praise.

Lydia Howard Sigourney

Lydia Howard Sigourney, born on September 1, 1791, and died on June 10, 1865, was one of the most popular and prolific poets in 19th-century America. Often referred to as the 'Sweet Singer of Hartford,' she authored numerous works that included poetry, essays, and books on various subjects. Her writings, characterized by their moral and didactic tone, earned her a reputation as a leading female literary figure of her time. Sigourney's influence extended beyond literature to social issues, including temperance and women's education.

Lydia Howard Sigourney

In Memoriam. - Mrs. Frederick Tyler,

Lydia Howard Sigourney, Simple Poetry

In Memoriam. - Miss. Emily B. Parish,

Lydia Howard Sigourney, Simple Poetry

In Memoriam. - Wentworth Alexander,

Lydia Howard Sigourney, Simple Poetry

In Memoriam. - Rev. Dr. F. W. Hatch,

Lydia Howard Sigourney, Simple Poetry

English

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In Memoriam. - Miss Anna M. Seymour,

Died at Hartford, August 24th, 1860.


The beauteous brow, the form of grace,
    With all their youthful charms,
The hand that woke the pencil's power,
And bore to penury's lowly bower,
    The never-wearied alms,

The sweet, sweet voice that duly cheer'd
    A grateful Sabbath train,
The uprais'd eye that taught them more
Of Heaven, than all their student lore,
    Must ne'er return again.

She took her flight as from the cage
    Enfranchised warblers glide,
Though friends were dear, and life was fair,
She saw her Saviour standing there,
    Beyond rough Jordan's tide.

Praise, praise to Him, whose faithful hand
    Prepared her glorious place,
For us is loss,--for her release,
The robe of rest, the home of peace,--

Lydia Howard Sigourney

In Memoriam. - Mr. Samuel Tudor,

Died at Hartford, January 29th, 1862, aged 92.


We saw him on a winter's day,
    Beneath the hallowed dome,
Where for so many years his heart
    Had found its Sabbath-home,
Yet not amid his ancient seat
    Or in the accustomed place
Arose his fair, and reverend brow,
    And form of manly grace.

Then Music, through the organ's soul
    Melodious descant gave,
But yet his voice so rich and sweet
    Swell'd not the sacred stave,
The Christmas wreaths o'er arch and nave
    Were lingering still to cheer
His parting visit to the fane
    Which he had help'd to rear.

And flowers were on the coffin-lid
    And o'er his bosom strown,
Fit offering for the friend who loved
    The plants of every zone,
And bade them i...

Lydia Howard Sigourney

In Memoriam. - Mr. John Warburton,

Died at Hartford, November, 1861.


The knot of crape upon yon stately door,
And sadness brooding o'er the sun-bright halls,
What do they signify?
                    Death hath been there
Where truth and goodness hand in hand with love
Walk'd for so many years.
                    Death hath been there,
To do mid flowing tears his mighty work,
Extinguishing the tyranny of pain
And taking the immortal essence home
Where it would be.
                    Yet is there left behind
A transcript that we cherish, and a chasm
We have no power to fill. Almost it seems
That we beheld him still, with quiet step
Moving among us, saintly and serene,
Clear-sighted, upright, held in high regard,
Yet meekly unambitious, seeking nought
Of windy honor f...

Lydia Howard Sigourney

In Memoriam. - Samuel G. Ogden, Esq.,

Died at Astoria, New York, April 5th, 1860.


Upon his suffering couch he lay,
    Whose noble form and mind
The stress of fourscore years had tried,
    Yet left a charm behind.
The charm of heaven-born happiness
    Whose beauty may not fade,
The charm of unimpair'd regard
    For all whom God had made.

Upon his suffering couch he lay,
    While sadly gathering there,
Were loved and loving ones, who made
    That honored life their care;
And 'mid the group, a daughter's voice
    Of wondrous sweetness read
Brief portions from the Book Divine,
    As his dictation led.

"Bow down thine ear, Most Merciful,
    Oh, hearken while I speak,
Now in my time of utmost need,
    To Thee alone I seek.
Shew me some token, Lo...

Lydia Howard Sigourney

In Memoriam. - Rev. Dr. James W. Alexander,

Pastor of the Fifth Avenue Church, New York, died at the Virginia Springs, July, 1859.


The great and good. How startling is the knell
That tells he is but dust.
                    The echo comes
From where Virginia's health-reviving springs
Make many whole. But waiting there for him
The dark-winged angel who doth come but once,
Troubled the waters, and his latest breath
Fled, where his first was drawn.
                    That noble brow
So mark'd with intellect, so clear with truth,
Grave in its goodness, in its love serene,
Will it be seen no more?
                    That earnest voice
Filling the Temple-arch so gloriously,
With themes of import to the undying soul
Enforced by power of fervid eloquence
Is it forever mute?
            ...

Lydia Howard Sigourney

In Memoriam. - Deacon Normand Smith,

Died at Hartford, May 22d, 1860, aged 87.


One saintly man the less, to teach us how
Wisely to live,--one blest example more
To teach us how to die.
                    Fourscore and seven,
Swept not the beauty of his brow away,
Nor quell'd his voice of music, nor impair'd
The social feeling that through all his life
Ran like a thread of gold.
                    In filial arms
Close wrapp'd with watchful tenderness, he trod
Jordan's cold brink.
                    The world was beautiful,
But Christ's dear love so wrought within his heart
That to depart seem'd better.
                    Many a year
He lent his influence to the church he loved,
For unity and peace, and countless gems
Dropp'd from his lips when the last sickness came,

Lydia Howard Sigourney