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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=408333" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>In Memory of John Fairfax</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=408333" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Because this man fulfilled his days,<br>Like one who walks with steadfast gaze<br>Averted from forbidden ways<br>With lures of fair, false flowerage deep,<br>Behold the Lord whose throne is dim<br>With fires of flaming seraphim—<br>The Christ that suffered sent for him:<br>“He giveth His beloved sleep.” <br>Think not that souls whose deeds august<br>Put sin to shame and make men just<br>Become at last the helpless dust<br>That wintering winds through waste-lands sweep!<br>The higher life within us cries,<br>Like some fine spirit from the skies,<br>“The Father’s blessing on us lies—<br>‘He giveth His beloved sleep.’” </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=408333" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Not human sleep—the fitful rest<br>With evil shapes of dreams distressed,—<br>But perfect quiet, unexpressed<br>By any worldly word we keep.<br>The dim Hereafter framed in creeds<br>May not be this; but He who reads<br>Our lives, sets flowers on wayside weeds—<br>“He giveth His beloved sleep.” </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=408333" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Be sure this hero who has passed<br>The human space—the outer vast—<br>Who worked in harness to the last,<br>Doth now a hallowed harvest reap.<br>Love sees his grave, nor turns away—<br>The eyes of faith are like the day,<br>And grief has not a word to say—<br>“He giveth His beloved sleep.” </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=408333" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">That fair, rare spirit, Honour, throws<br>A light, which puts to shame the rose,<br>Across his grave, because she knows<br>The son whose ashes it doth keep;<br>And, like far music, this is heard—<br>“Behold the man who never stirred,<br>By word of his, an angry word!—<br>‘He giveth His beloved sleep.’” </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=408333" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">He earned his place. Within his hands,<br>The power which counsels and commands,<br>And shapes the social life of lands,<br>Became a blessing pure and deep.<br>Through thirty years of turbulence<br>Our thoughts were sweetened with a sense<br>Of his benignant influence—<br>“He giveth His beloved sleep.” </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=408333" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">No splendid talents, which excite<br>Like music, songs, or floods of light,<br>Were his; but, rather, all those bright,<br>Calm qualities of soul which reap<br>A mute, but certain, fine respect,<br>Not only from a source elect,<br>But from the hearts of every sect—<br>“He giveth His beloved sleep.” </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=408333" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">He giveth His beloved rest!<br>The faithful soul that onward pressed,<br>Unswerving, from Life’s east to west,<br>By paths austere and passes steep,<br>Is past all toil; and, over Death,<br>With reverent hands and prayerful breath,<br>I plant this flower, alive with faith—<br>“He giveth His beloved sleep.”</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Henry+Kendall">Henry Kendall</a></strong></div>