The damps of death are on my brow,
The chill is in my heart,
My blood has almost ceased to flow,
My hopes of life depart;
The valley and the shadow before me open wide,
But thou, O Lord! even there wilt be my guardian and my guide,
For what is pain, if Thou art nigh its bitterness to quell?
And where death's boasted victory, his last triumphant spell?
O Saviour! in that hour when mortal strength is nought,
When nature's agony comes on, and every anguished thought
Springs in the breaking heart a source of darkest woe,
Be nigh unto my soul, nor permit the floods o'erflow.
To Thee, to Thee alone! dare I raise my dying eyes;
Thou didst for all atone, by Thy wondrous sacrifice;
Oh! in Thy mercy's richness, extend Thy smiles on me,
And let my soul outspeak Thy praise, throughout eternity!"
Beneath the above stanzas, in the manuscript alluded to, is the
following note: "Rather more than a year has elapsed since the above was
first written. Death is now certainly nearer at hand; but my sentiments
remain unchanged, except that my reliance on the Saviour is stronger."
It was a melancholy sight to witness the premature extinction of such a
spirit; yet the dying couch on which genius, and virtue, and learning
thus lay prostrated, beamed with more hallowed lustre, and taught a more
salutary lesson, than could have been imparted by the proudest triumphs
of intellect. The memory of Dr. Godman, his blighted promise and his
unfinished labours, will long continue to call forth the vain regrets of
men of science and learning. There are those who treasure, up in their
hearts, as a more precious recollection, his humble faith and his
triumphant death, and who can meet with an eye of pity the scornful
glance of the scoffer and the infidel, at being told that if Dr. Godman
was a philosopher, he was also a Christian.