The latter incumber the ground.

This mystery we'll then comprehend,
And all will be plain to our sight,
Then dry up the tears which flow for our friend,
In full faith that God doeth right.



IN MEMORIAM

RENSELLAER BIDDLE.

A noble heart is sleeping here,
Beneath this lowly mound;
With reverence let us draw near,
For this is holy ground.

The mortal frame that rests below
This consecrated sward,
Was late with heavenly hope aglow,
A temple of the Lord.

His charity was like a flood,
It seemed to have no bound,
But reached the evil and the good,
Wherever want was found.

The poor and needy sought his door,
The wretched and distressed,