Minor Sketches of Major Folk and where They Sleep: The Old Masonic Burying Ground, Fredericksburg, Virginia

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Old Dominion Press, 1928 - Epitaphs - 128 pages
The cemetery is known as the Old Masonic burying ground, the Old Masonic cemetery and the old burying ground of Fredericksburg Lodge, no. 4, A.F. and A.M.
 

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Page 66 - For as soon as the wind goeth over it, it is gone, and the place thereof shall know it no more.
Page 71 - For thou art my rock and my fortress; therefore for thy name's sake lead me, and guide me.
Page 34 - Composed in sufferings, and in joy sedate, Good without noise, without pretension great. Just of thy word, in every thought sincere, Who knew no wish but what the world might hear : Of softest manners, unaffected mind, Lover of peace, and friend of human kind : Go, live ! for heaven's eternal year is thine, Go, and exalt thy mortal to divine.
Page 36 - HYMN 127. LM Death of an Infant. the sweet flower that scents the morn, But withers in the rising day ; Thus lovely was this infant's dawn, Thus swiftly fled its life away. 2 It died ere its expanding soul Had ever burnt with wrong desires, Had ever spurn'd at heaven's control, Or ever quench'd its sacred fires.
Page 74 - honored for many years with the esteem and confidence of the unfortunate Stanislaus Augustus, king of Poland , he held under that monarch, until he lost his throne, the most distinguished offices, among which was that of ambassador to Russia. He was by him created Knight of the Order of St. Stanislaus, chamberlain and confidential secretary in his cabinet, and acted as his special envoy among the most important negotiations.
Page 13 - THERE is a calm for those who weep, A rest for weary pilgrims found, They softly lie and sweetly sleep Low in the ground. The storm that wrecks the winter sky No more disturbs their deep repose, Than summer evening's latest sigh That shuts the rose.
Page 56 - Jesus can make a dying bed Feel soft as downy pillows are, While on his breast I lean my head, And breathe my life out sweetly there.
Page 31 - ... desert soil : 0 for soft winds and clement showers ! 1 seek not fruit, I planted flowers. Those flowers I train'd, of many a hue, Along thy path to bloom, And little thought, that I must strew Their leaves upon thy tomb : — Beyond that tomb I lift mine eye, Thou art not dead, Thou could'st not die. Farewell, but not a long farewell ; In heaven may I appear, The trials of my faith to tell In thy transported ear, And sing with Thee the eternal strain, " Worthy the Lamb that once was slain.
Page 64 - And they shall be mine, saith the Lord of hosts, in that day when I make up my jewels.
Page 82 - The sweet remembrance of the just Shall flourish when he sleeps in

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