The Grave Of Bishop Ken.

1 On yonder heap of earth forlorn, Where Ken his place of burial chose, Peacefully shine, O Sabbath morn! And, eve, with gentlest hush, repose. 2 To him is reared no marble tomb, Within the dim cathedral fane; But some faint flowers, of summer bloom, And silent falls the wintry rain. 3 No village monumental stone Records a verse, a date, a name— What boots it? when thy task is done, Christian, how vain the sound of fame! 4 Oh! far more grateful to thy God, The voices of poor children rise, Who hasten o'er the dewy sod, "To pay their morning sacrifice." 5 And can we listen to their hymn, Heard, haply, when the evening knell Sounds, where the village brow is dim, As if to bid the world farewell! 6 Without a thought that from the dust The morn shall wake the sleeping clay, And bid the faithful and the just Upspring to heaven's eternal day!