The Snow-Drop | Page 5

was now his prey,--?Whose rising merits win each heart,--?A noble mind beams from his eye,--?Fair virtue dwells in his young heart.
Yet pale disease now lurks around,?His active limbs their vigor lose;?But lo! he hears the joyful sound;--?The gospel brings him glorious news.
What though his earthly house decays,?And swiftly sink life's ebbing sands;?He's one eternal in the skies,?Not made by dying, mortal hands.
While friends ask, must you go so soon,?Oh must we part with you to-day??He, smiling, says, I crave the boon;?Joyful I go without delay.
My Savior cheers the lonely vale,?His smiles of love dispel the gloom;?Oh then how can my courage fail--?Why should I dread the peaceful tomb?
The Savior blest this lowly bed,?And robbed the monster of his sting;?My Lord will raise me from the dead,--?Give me a harp and bid me sing.
Behold this lovely, youthful saint,?In raptures close his dying eyes;?He yields to death without complaint,?And soars triumphant to the skies.
Voracious grave! thou ne'er wast cloy'd!?Thy constant cry has been for more,?Since Abel, thy first victim, died;?Yet thou art eager as before.
Once more death bends the fatal bow,--?Again he seeks a shining mark;?Another blooming son lies low,--?Death steals away the vital spark.
Though far from home and those dear friends?Which soothe his grief and crown his bliss,?His heavenly Father comfort sends,--?The Holy Spirit whispers peace.
He seeks the dear paternal hearth,?To die by his fond parent's side;?To him the dearest friends on earth,?Who with a smile each tear would hide.
A few short weeks he lingered there,?While heav'nly peace reigned in his breast;?He cries, my friends, oh now prepare?To meet where sorrows ne'er molest.
Though earthly friends are dear to me,?I feel them twining round my heart,?A friend in heaven, by faith, I see,?Who bids my joyful soul depart.
Dear mourning friends, now dry your tears;?Bid ev'ry murm'ring thought be still;?My mind is free from doubts and fears,--?I sink into my Savior's will.
With smiles of vict'ry on his brow,?And heav'nly transport in his breast,?Well pleased, he leaves this vale of woe,?And like an infant sinks to rest.
Down through the portals of the sky?Descend a glorious shining band.?Who waft his soul to joys on high,?And blissful scenes at God's right hand.
Nor does the monster yet relent,--?Four blooming victims he has slain,?Yet on another now intent,?He bends his fatal bow again.
And must this only daughter go,?Ere half her budding graces bloom??Yes, cruel death will take her too,?To swell his numbers in the tomb.
See on her cheek the death rose bloom,?And smile with a deceitful glow;?'Tis the red banner of the tomb,?To warn her friends that she must go.
With bleeding hearts they feel the rod,?And weeping, lay her in the grave,?Yet with submission yield to God,?The precious jewel which he gave.
But when the trump of God shall sound,?To call each sainted sleeper home,?Should they, with ev'ry child, surround?The mighty conq'ror of the tomb--
They'll cry, oh Lord, thou ever just,?Behold is and our children here!?Thou didst in love give them to us,?And we resigned them to thy care.
Now we will chant Redemption's sung,?Which Gabriel never learned to sing,?Nor one of all th' angelic throng,--?To Jesus, prophet, priest and king.
THE ROSE AND LILAC TREE.[2]
No garland, fresh from Eden's bowers,?Could be more sweet than these dear flowers?To each surviving friend;?They'll water them with falling tears,?And nurse them through succeeding years,?And from each ill defend.
Bloom on, each weeping parent cried,--?My daughters planted you and died,--?You are most dear to me;?Each now in smiling beauty stands,?Where placed by these fair youthful hands,--?Sweet rose and lilac tree.
Bloom on, bloom on, perfume the air,--?I love to see you flourish there,?And in bright beauty bloom;?Each tiny leaf I hold most dear,?Although you oft call forth a tear?For loved ones in the tomb.
Bloom on, sweet flow'rs, while yet you may;?Your fading leaves will soon portray?The lovely, fragile form,?Which passed from earth while skies seemed fair,?Like vapors quiv'ring in the air,?Before a coming storm.
I gaze upon these opening flowers--?They bring a dream of blissful hours,?When brighter germs were mine;?Once on my throbbing bosom lay?Sweet budding blossoms, fair as they,?Fraught with immortal minds.
'Neath summer skies these flow'rs will fade--?Fair emblems of the youthful dead,?But spring restores their bloom.?Just so the saints that droop and die,?When Gabriel's trump shall rend the sky,?Will leave the mould'ring tomb.
They'll leave this dull, this earthly sod,?And, in the garden of our God,?Bloom with celestial grace,?Where frost and mildew ne'er can blight;?There, all enraptured with delight,?God's wondrous works they'll trace.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 2: The Rose and Lilac trees, referred to above, were planted by two youthful sisters a short time before their death.]
LINES
Composed on the death of Mrs. Mary M. West, of Jay.
Dear Mary, while thou art in heaven, at rest,?We're mourning thy absence, bereft and depressed;?For thou wert so faithful, so winning and kind,?That our hearts' ev'ry fibre around thee entwined.
How oft have we listened, unwilling to part,?While sweet heavenly music gushed forth from thy