O! Sing To Me Of Heaven!

The following lines were written on the occasion of the death of Mrs. Ramsay, widow of the late David Ramsay, the son of the Historian of South Carolina. Her maiden name was Pinckney, a name identified with the history of our state. The lines were suggested by the scenes which took place at her death; they are affectionately dedicated to my dear friends, Mr. and Mrs. H. L. Pinckney, and to our beloved teachers, the Misses Ramsay, to whom my father’s daughters owe a pleasing debt of gratitude.

O! sing to me of Heaven, When I am call’d to die! Sing songs of holy ecstasy, To waft my soul on high!

When cold and sluggish drops Roll off my marble brow, Burst forth in strains of joyfulness-- Let Heaven begin below!

When the last moment comes, O! watch my dying face; And catch the bright seraphic gleam Which o’er each feature plays!

Then to my ravish’d ears Let one sweet song be given; Let music charm me last on earth, And greet me first in Heaven!

Then close my sightless eyes, And lay me down to rest; And clasp my pale and icy hands Upon my lifeless breast.

Then round my senseless clay Assemble those I love; And sing of Heaven--delightful Heaven! My glorious home above!

JANUARY 15, 1840.

TO A DYING CHRISTIAN.

Trembling soul, dismiss thy fear; See thy great deliv’rer near! Hear him calling thee to come To thy long expected home! Weary wand’rer, hasten home!

Dost thou fear the Monarch pale? Death is vanquish’d--bid him “hail!” Near him stands a mightier King; He will needful courage bring:-- Dying Christian! why not sing?

Dost thou dread, when thou shalt die, Nature’s parting agony? Calm as evening’s ling’ring ray Shall thy spirit pass away; Flutt’ring soul! no longer stay!

Dost thou dread the last “good bye;” Dread to hear the choking sigh? When thy friends around thee stand, Point them to Immanuel’s land-- That delightful, happy land!

Dost thou fear to leave alone One whose soul was like your own? Friends, ye shall not parted be; One in spirit still are ye; Soon in Heaven both shall be!

Christians, take one long embrace, Look your last on each dear face! Hark! the waiting seraph sings! All the air with music rings! Struggling spirit, spread thy wings!

JANUARY 11, 1840.