The poem
AN HONEST man here lies at rest As e’er God with his image blest; The friend of man, the friend of truth, The friend of age, and guide of youth: Few hearts like his, with virtue warm’d, Few heads with knowledge so informed: If there’s another world, he lives in bliss; If there is none, he made the best of this.
I love this epitaph. It describes a man one would have wanted as a grandfather. I came upon it on a tombstone commemorationg a local man, a weaver and famous Chartist speaker who died in poverty in 1853, in Halifax, Yorkshire. 10,000 people came to his funeral, which was mentioned by Karl Marx in a newspaper article... Writer and poet Ernest Jones gave the oration. I'm glad to discover the poem's origin.