The Reunion Of Sir T. F. Buxton And Elizabeth Fry.

A poem by Eliza Paul Kirkbride Gurney

They have met, they have met! now their pinions unfurl
In that city whose pavement is gold,
Whose every gate is of one liquid pearl,
And her beauty and glory untold;

That city, which needeth no light from the sun,
Where the moon sheds her lustre no more,
But where, in the smile of the Crucified One,
Countless myriads bow down and adore.

One by one are the loved ones all gathering there,
In white robes they encircle the throne;
Oh! what bliss to unite where sin cannot blight,
And where parting and death are unknown.

They are come to Mount Zion, the city of God;
They are joined to the glorified throng;
One pathway of sorrow by all has been trod,
All sing one harmonious song.

Omnipotent Lord, just and true are Thy ways!
Thy works great and marvellous are!
Oh! who shall not fear Thee and echo Thy praise,
And Thy glory and honor declare.

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