human
Reader, stay, and thou shalt know What he is, that here doth sleepe; Lodged amidst the Stones below, Stones that oft are seen to weepe. Gentle was his Birth and Breed, His carriage gentle, much contenting; His word accorded with his Deed, Sweete his nature, soone relenting. From above he seem'd protected, Father dead before his Birth. An orphane only, but neglected. Yet his Branches spread on Earth, Earth that must his Bones containe, Sleeping, till _Christ's_ Trumpet shall wake them, Joyning them to Soule againe, And to Blisse eternal take them. It is not this rude and little Heap of Stones, Can hold the Fame, although't containes the Bones; Light be the Earth, and hallowed for thy sake, Resting in Peace, Peace that thou so oft didst make.
gpt
Protestant Association