Poetry: Myron Holley

The íbllowing beautiful hymn. composed by John Pierpont, 01' Boston, was sung at tho raisinsjof the monument to the metnory of Myron Jlolley: Hcro, where young Summcr weavc A Bcreen of tender leoves, Over ihy gravo, And the wood-robin's wing Around ie flutioring, Thy rejiiiem we sing. Kriond of the slave! lieie, in this lenfy aisle, A momunental pile To thee we rear: That etrangers ns they're led Thcae. sh;ifly patlis io tread, .Mny linger by thy bed, And drop a tear. Why. brotlier. should we mournt JL.ong Imd'st thou bravuly borne A íalse world's frown: - Yet He. for whose dear snke, Tliou didst :hat b'ür'den take, Well knowest how to make Thy crosï, thy crown. IIow gloved thy Iips. - thy pen, When foi thy fellow men, For cren the thrall, Thy spirit dared to bc Wiih Gods own Irecdom free, ,. And publish Hi decree, 'Frkelom for all! Tea re - mnnly tear - wil! yet These cold niuto. m irbles wet, Servant of God, And clouds, in mourning drest, Liow trailing fibm the west, And stars, that watch thy rc'êt, Bedew thy sod.