Poems (Edwards)/The Missionary's Burial at Sea

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THE MISSIONARY'S BURIAL AT SEA.
He left his home, his own sweet home, He left his native land,He left the hearth he loved so well, For a home in a distant land;He left the eyes that round him shone With affection fond and pure,To carry the words of life and truth Away to a heathen shore.
He left his home, his native land, In manhood's cloudless prime,To dwell, a light to the heathen world, A star in their darkened clime;He has suffered long, he has suffered well, But the toils of life are o'er,And the pains, the ills, the fears of earth Will touch his heart no more.
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As a star goes out in the morning light, As a dewdrop melts away,As the sunlight dies on the western hills, As floats the ocean spray;His soul passed up to its glorious home, Where all is bright and free,And they folded him up in a winding sheet And buried him in the sea.
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