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-Death is the crown of life:
Were death denied, poor man would live in vain ;
Were death denied, to live would not be life;
Were death denied, even fools would wish to die ;
Death wounds to cure ; we fall, we rise, we reign ;
Spring from our fetters, fasten in the skies;
Where blooming Eden withers in our sight;
Death gives us more than was in Eden lost;
This king of terrors is the prince of peace.

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To die is gain ; yes, rich immortal gain ;
The saints' triumphal entry in the sky;
The bright reverse of sorrow, fear, and pain,
A happy transit to the realms of joy.

* This was the text of the funeral sermon.

To die is gain, no stormy billows roll,
In the still haven of the happy shore,
Soft are the gales of bliss, serene the soul,
The hurricanes of mortal life are o’er.

To die is gain, the raptured spirits know,
Blest with the dazzling starry diadem;
In glory ceaseless tides of pleasure flow,
And mystic lamps of love for ever flame.

To die is gain, the toil-spent minister,
And hoary saint, by pain and sickness worn,
Quaff sweet oblivion to their mortal care,
And pluck in bliss the rose without a thorn.

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To die is gain, the beatific sight,
The golden streets and verdant groves attest;
Where circling sweets perennial delight,
And flowers unfading crown the sinless blest.

To die is gain, ye thoughtless gay attend,
See the pure saints resign their mortal breath;
How pure their lives, how pacific their end;
Their path to glory is the vale of death.

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To die is gain, exhilarating text,
To her whose loss demands the sharpest grief;
This soothes the throbbing soul when sore perplext,
This balmy passage furnishes relief.

To die is gain, 'tis boundless gain to die
Tho' dark and cold the subterranean bed;
'Tis the pure vestibule of endless joy,
Where wreaths of glory crown the happy dead.

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