On The Death Of Elizabeth Scott Poem by David John Scott

Ransom'd spirit, spread thy wings,
Leave thy broken house of clay;
Soar from earth and earthly things,
To the realms of endless day.

Weary pilgrim, take thy rest,
Thine has been a tiresome road;
Aching head and tortur'd breast,
Added to thy galling load.

Patient sufferer, dry thy tears,
All thy sorrows now are o'er;
Foes without, or inward fears,
Never can afflict thee more.

Faithful soldier of the cross,
All thy conflicts now are done;
Earthly triumphs are but loss,
Thine is an immortal one.

Palms of vict'ry thou shall bear,
And a crown of fadeless light
Will be given thee to wear,
And a robe of spotless white.

Thou shalt join the countless throng,
Which, through tribulation, came:
And repeat the angels' song-
'Worthy! worthy is His name

Who hath conquered death and hell;
Captive led captivity;
Always doing, all things well;
Giving us the victory!'