her. The sorrow was almost too great for his feeble
nature, and he again sank into deepest gloom. At times he thought God had
forsaken him. Only at intervals was he able to resume his literary work.
His last poem was "The Castaway," written March 20, 1799. Through all his
spiritual and mental depression, however, he was ever submissive to the
will of God. But the time of release for this chastened child of God was
at hand.

Bishop Moule tells the story of his departure thus: "About half an hour
before his death, his face, which had been wearing a sad and hopeless
expression, suddenly lighted up with a look of wonder and inexpressible
delight. It was as if he saw his Saviour, and as if he realized the
blessed fact, 'I am not shut out of Heaven after all!' This look of holy
surprise and of joyful adoration remained until he had passed away, and
even as he lay in his coffin the expression was still there. One who saw
him after death wrote that 'with the composure and calmness of the face,
there mingled also a holy surprise.'"

Mrs. Browning, in her poem entitled "Cowper's Grave," concludes with
these lines:

"O poets, from a maniac's tongue was poured the deathless singing!
O Christians, at your cross of hope a hopeless hand was clinging!
O men, this man in brotherhood your weary paths beguiling,
Groaned inly while he taught you peace, and died while you were
smiling."

It is a noble tribute to the deathless work of an afflicted man, and
reminds us that Cowper is still singing his wondrous theme of "redeeming
love," although his

"poor lisping, stammering tongue
Lies silent in the grave."

A Hymn of Gracious Invitation

Come ye disconsolate, where'er ye languish;
Come to the mercy-seat, fervently kneel:
Here bring your wounded hearts, here tell your anguish;
Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot heal.

Joy of the desolate, light of the straying,
Hope of the penitent, fadeless and pure!
Here speaks the Comforter, tenderly saying,
"Earth has no sorrow that Heaven cannot cure."

Here see the Bread of Life; see waters flowing
Forth from the throne of God, pure from above,
Come to the feast of love; come, ever knowing
Earth has no sorrow but Heaven can remove.

Thomas Moore (1179-1852).

AN IRISH POET AND HIS HYMNS

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