Beneath these green trees rising to the skies,
The planter of them, Isaac Greentree, lies;
The time read more

Beneath these green trees rising to the skies,
The planter of them, Isaac Greentree, lies;
The time shall come when these green trees shall fall,
And Isaac Greentree rise above them all.

Ere sin could blight or sorrow fade,
Death came with friendly care;
The opening bud to Heaven read more

Ere sin could blight or sorrow fade,
Death came with friendly care;
The opening bud to Heaven conveyed,
And bade it blossom there.

Farewell, vain world, I've had enough of thee,
And Valies't not what thou Can'st say of me;
read more

Farewell, vain world, I've had enough of thee,
And Valies't not what thou Can'st say of me;
Thy Smiles I count not, nor thy frowns I fear,
My days are past, my head lies quiet here.
What faults you saw in me take Care to shun,
Look but at home, enough is to be done.

Kind reader! take your choice to cry or laugh;
Here Harod lies--but where's his Epitaph?
If such read more

Kind reader! take your choice to cry or laugh;
Here Harod lies--but where's his Epitaph?
If such you seek, try Westminister, and view
Ten thousand, just as fit for him as you.

Loe here the precious dust is layd;
Whose purely-temper'd clay was made
So fine that it the read more

Loe here the precious dust is layd;
Whose purely-temper'd clay was made
So fine that it the guest betray'd.
Else the soule grew so fast within,
It broke the outward shall of sinne
And so was hatch'd a cherubin.

And the voice of men shall call,
"He is fallen like us all,
Though the weapon of read more

And the voice of men shall call,
"He is fallen like us all,
Though the weapon of the Lord was in his hand:"
And thine epitaph shall be--
"He was wretched ev'n as we;"
And thy tomb may be unhonoured in the land.

For the Lord Jesus Christ's sake,
Do all the good you can,
To all the people you read more

For the Lord Jesus Christ's sake,
Do all the good you can,
To all the people you can,
In all the ways you can,
As long as ever you can.

And be the Spartan's epitaph on me--
"Sparta hath many a worthier son than he."

And be the Spartan's epitaph on me--
"Sparta hath many a worthier son than he."

Yet at the resurrection we shall see
A fair edition, and of matchless worth,
Free from erratas, read more

Yet at the resurrection we shall see
A fair edition, and of matchless worth,
Free from erratas, new in heaven set forth.