O Thou, or friend or stranger, who shalt tread
These solemn mansions of the silent dead!
Think, when this record to enquiring eyes,
No more shall tell the spot where Dicey lies;
When this frail marble, faithless to its trust,
Mould'ring itself, resigns its moulder'd dust;
When time shall fail, and nature's self decay;
And earth, and sun, and skies dissolve away;

Thy
soul, this consummation shall survive,
Defy the wreck, and but
begin
to live.
This truth, long slighted, let these ashes teach,
Tho' cold, instruct you, and tho' silent, preach:
O pause! reflect, repent, resolve, amend!
Life has no length, Eternity no end!