OCCASIONED BY THE DEATH OF S. WHITE, OF LIVERMORE,
WHO DIED DEC. 25TH, 1842, AGED 26.

Why do these tears bedew our eyes?
Why heaves the breast with bursting sighs?
We've seen a friend depart;
In vain we tune our harp and sing,
We cannot touch that thrilling string,
Which vibrates in the heart.

Engaging, graceful and refined,
Frank, open, generous and kind,
Was our departed friend;
His mental powers were deep and clear,--
His ardent friendship, most sincere,
With life alone could end.

His heart could feel for others' woe--
How oft his footsteps, soft and low,
Fell on the suff'rer's ear!
Each word he spake, their grief to quell,
Seemed waters gushing from a well,
Whose fount was deep and clear.

In early years he mourned for sin,
And prayed for garments white and clean,
Washed in the Savior's blood.
He journeyed on for many years,
Amidst temptations, doubts, and fears,
But found a pard'ning God.