The great work laid upon his twoscore years br Is done, and well done. If we drop our tears, br Who loved him as few men were ever loved, br We mourn no blighted hope nor broken plan br With him whose life stands rounded and approved br In the full growth and stature of a man. br Mingle, O bells, along the Western slope, br With your deep toll a sound of faith and hope! br Wave cheerily still, O banner, half-way down, br From thousand-masted bay and steepled town! br Let the strong organ with its loftiest swell br Lift the proud sorrow of the land, and tell br That the brave sower saw his ripened grain.