Consider, Reader, who lies here,
And for thy Loss then Drop a Tear;
'Tis BAXTER, whose unwearied Pen
Strove to Reform the Lives of Men:
Who Godliness and Learning joyn'd
To all the Beauties of his Mind;
Of God and of good Men belov'd;
None e're their Talents more improv'd;
Heav'n lengthned out his Glass, that we
By him might learn true Piety:
His Soul is gone, true Bliss to find,
His Body here is left behind,
And through the World the Product of his Mind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem