When Blooming Youth Is Snatched Away

Anne Steele knew suffering and sorrow. She also knew rhyme, meter, and sound doctrine. In this poem, titled “At the Funeral of a Young Person,” she puts all on full display and so powerfully directs mourners to ensure they do not miss the opportunity to consider the state of their own souls.

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When blooming youth is snatched away
By death’s resistless hand,
Our hearts the mournful tribute pay
Which pity must demand.

While pity prompts the rising sigh,
O may this truth, impress’d
With awful power,—”I too must die:”
Sink deep in every breast.

Let this vain world engage no more;
Behold the gaping tomb!
It bids us seize the present hour,
Tomorrow death may come.

The voice of this alarming scene,
May every heart obey;
Nor be the heavenly warning vain,
Which calls to watch and pray.

Oh, let us fly—to Jesus fly,
Whose powerful arm can save;
Then shall our hopes ascend on high,
And triumph o’er the grave.

Great God! thy sovereign grace impart,
With cleansing, healing power;
This only can prepare the heart
For death’s surprising hour.