The White Pilgrim

The White Pilgrim.
90.6

I came to the spot where the white pilgrim lay
And pensively stood by his tomb,
When in a low whisper a volce seemed to say.
“How sweetly 1 sleep here alone.

“Twas the call of my master that led me from
home;
I bade my companion farewell:
I left my dear children who now for me mouru,
In a far distant region to dwell.

“I wandered a stranger in exile below,
To publish salvation abroad.
The trumpet of the gospel endeavoring to blow,
Inviting poor sinners to God.

“But when at a distance and far from my honte,
No kindred nor relative nigh.
I met the contagion and sank in the tomb.
My spirit ascending on high

Oh, tell my companion and children most dear,
To weep not for Joseph though gone,
The same hand that’s led me through scenes dark
and drear.
Has kindly assisted me home.