Lines To A Married Friend
There are flowers that never wither,
There are skies that never fade,
There are trees that cast forever
Cooling bowers of leafy shade.
There are silver wavelets flowing,
With a lulling sound of rest,
Where the west wind softly blowing
Fans the far lands of the blest.
Thitherward our steps are tending,
Oft through dim, oppressive fears,
More of grief than pleasure blending
In the darkening woof of years.
Often would our footsteps weary
Sink upon the winding way,
But that, when all looks most dreary,
O'er us beams a cheering ray.
Thus the Father who hath made us
Tenants of this world of care,
Knoweth how to kindly aid us,
With the burdens we must bear.
Knoweth how to cause the spirit
Hopefully to raise its eyes
Toward the home it doth inherit
Far beyond the azure skies.
There's a voice that whispers lowly,
Down within this heart of mine,
Where emotions the most holy
Ever make their sacred shrine;
And it tells a thrilling story
Of the Great Redeemer's love,
And the all-bewildering glory
Of the better land above.
O, this life, with all its sorrows,
Hasteth onward to a close!
In a few more brief to-morrows
Will have ended all our woes.
Then o'er death the part immortal
Shall sublimely rise and soar
O'er the star-resplendent portal,
There to dwell for evermore.
May we meet, no more to sever,
Where the weary are at rest,
Far beyond dark Jordan's river,
In the Canaan of the blest.
Guard the treasures God hath given
To thy tenderest nurturing care,
And upon the fields of heaven
Thou shalt see them blooming fair.
Lines To A Friend,
ON REMOVING FROM HER NATIVE VILLAGE.
The golden rays of sunset fall on a snow-clad hill,
As standing by my window I gaze there long and still.
I see a roof and a chimney, and some tall elms standing near,
While the winds that sway their branches bring voices to my ear.
They tell of a darkened hearth-stone, that once shone bright and gay,
And of old familiar faces that have sadly passed away;
How a stranger on the threshold with careless aspect stands,
And gazes on the acres that have passed into his hands.
I shudder, as these voices, so fraught with mournful woe,
Steal on my spirit's hearing, in cadence sad and low,
And think I will not hear them--but, ah! who can control
The gloomy thoughts that enter and brood upon the soul?
So, turning from my window, while darkness deepens round,
And the wailing winds sweep onward with yet more piteous sound,
I feel within my bosom far wilder whirlwinds start,
And sweep the cloudy heaven that bends above my heart.
I have no power to quell them; so let them rage and roar,
The sooner will their raging and fury all be o'er;
I've seen Atlantic's billows 'neath tempests fiercely swell,
But O, the calm succeeding, I have no words to tell!
I think of you, and wonder if you are happy now;
Floats there no shade of sorrow at times across your brow?
When daily tasks are ended, and thought is free to roam,
Doth it not bear you swiftly back to that dear old home?
And then, with wizard fingers, doth Memory open fast
A thrilling panorama of all the changeful past!
Where blending light and shadow skip airy o'er the scene,
Painting in vivid contrast what is and what has been.
And say, does not your mother remember yet with tears
The spot where calm and peaceful have lapsed so many years?
O, would some kindly spirit might give us all to know
How much a tender parent will for a child forego!
We prized your worth while with us; but now you're gone from sight,
We feel 'how blessings brighten while they are taking flight.'
O, don't forget the homestead upon the pleasant hill;
Nor yet the love-lit home you have in all our memories still!
Come, often come to visit the haunts your childhood knew!
We pledge you earnest welcome, unbought, unfeigned and true.
And when before your vision new hopes and pleasure rise,
Turn sometimes with a sunny thought toward your native skies!