The Kings and Queens of England with Other Poems | Page 6

faded away, and was borne to the tomb.
Weston, March 5, 1852.
FOR MY FRIEND MRS. R.
When writing to you, friend, a subject I'd find?In which there's both pleasure and profit combined,?And though what I've chosen may pain in review,?Yet still there's strange mingling of pleasure there too.?Then let us go back many years that are past,?And glance at those days much too happy to last.?I have seen thee, my friend, when around thy bright hearth?Not a seat was found vacant, but gladness and mirth?Kept high holiday there, and many a time?Were mingled in pastime my children with thine.?I've looked in again, the destroyer had come,?And changed the whole aspect of that happy home.?He entered that dwelling, and rudely he tore?From the arms of his mother, her most cherished flower.?Thy heart seemed then broken, oh! how couldst thou bear?To live in this world, and thy idol not here??Oh! heart-stricken mother, thou didst not then know?All the bitter ingredients in thy cup of woe.?The hand of thy father that cup had prepared,?Each drop needful for thee, not one could be spared.?Ere thy first wound had healed, while bleeding and sore,?Death entered again, and a fair daughter bore?From home of her childhood, to return never more.?How painful the shock, for in striking that blow?A child, parent, sister, and wife was laid low.?Thy strength seemed unequal that shock to sustain,?But death was not satiate, he soon called again,?And tears and entreaties were powerless to save?Another dear daughter from death and the grave.?Like a fair lily when droops its young head,?With little of suffering her mild spirit fled.?She was thy namesake, to her young friends most dear;?So many thy trials, so heavy to bear,?It seemed that much longer thou couldst not survive;?How much can the human heart bear and yet live.?Up to this time there had always been one?Who shared in thy trials and made them his own;?Many years his strong arm had support been to thee,?The friend of thy youth, thy kind husband was he.?He's ever been with thee in weal and in woe,?But the time's just at hand when he too must go.?The bolt fell not single, it pierced the slight form?Of a child, too fragile to weather the storm;?The summons that took her dear father away?Seemed her young heart to break, she could not here stay,?And now in deep slumber they side by side lay.?I have felt, my dear friend, as I've witnessed thy grief,?How inadequate language to give thee relief;?And that real relief could never be found?Except from the hand that inflicted the wound.?In the furnace of fire thou wert not alone,?For walking beside thee had ever been one,?The kindest of friends, though thou could'st not him see,?For the scales on thine eyes weighed them down heavily.?Those scales have now fallen; look up, thou canst see?That look of compassion, it's fixed upon thee.?Raise thine eyes once again, see that head crowned with thorns; In those feet, hands, and side, see the deep bleeding wounds. You now know full well why such suffering was borne,?'Twas for thee, and for me, and for every one?Who trusts in his merits and on him alone.?Thy day is just passed, 'tis now evening with thee,?But the faith of the Christian is given to see?The star of bright promise, amid the dark gloom?Which shall light all thy footsteps and gild the lone tomb; And at the last day mayst thou and thine stand?An unbroken household at Jesus' right hand.
March 27, 1852.
FOR MY NIECE ANGELINE.
In the morning of life, when all things appear bright,?And far in the distance the shadows of night,?With kind parents still spared thee, and health to enjoy,?What period more fitting thy powers to employ?In the service of him, who his own life has given?To procure thee a crown and a mansion in Heaven.?As a dream that is gone at the breaking of day,?And a tale that's soon told, so our years pass away.?"Then count that day lost, whose low setting sun?Can see from thy hand no worthy act done."?Midst the roses of life many thorns thou wilt find,?"But the cloud that is darkest, with silver is lined."?As the children of Israel were led on their way?By the bright cloud at night, and the dark cloud by day,?So the Christian is led through the straight narrow road?That brings him direct to his home and his God;?And when the last stage of life's journey is o'er,?And Jordan's dark waves can affright him no more,?When safely arrived in his own promised land,?He's permitted with Saints and with Angels to stand,?Then weighed in the balance how light will appear?All the sorrows of life, with his blissful state there.?Oh! let us by faith take a view of him now,?See the crown of bright jewels encircling his brow;?His old tattered robe swept away by the flood,?Is replaced by a new one,