On The Death Of The Rev. Dr. Sewell, 1769 Comments
Rating: ★2.6
Ere yet the morn its lovely blushes spread,
See Sewell number'd with the happy dead.
Hail, holy man, arriv'd th' immortal shore,
Though we shall hear thy warning voice no more.
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O when shall we to his blest state arrive? " When the same graces in our bosoms thrive." really great poem. tony