"
They have no load of grief to bear,
Of sin no dark, deep stain,
And yet in patience take their share
Of storm, and frost and rain.
Oh, can it be unknown to us,
Without one human word,
The universal Father soothes
The death-bed of each bird;
"The whole creation groaneth," yet
These pure things of the sky,
Are they not nearer to the gates
Than mortals such as I?
Yet while I mused, it seemed some form,
Ere yet I was aware,
Bent o'er my pillow, dried my tears,
And turned to sing my prayer;
Some subtle presence unrevealed,
Seemed to repeat the words,
"Fear not, for you are dearer far,
Than many little birds."
I do not ask what seemed to speak;
Whether the angel blest,
Who hath been my appointed guard
In calm or wild unrest;
Or whether some sweet voice I love,
But hushed to me a while,
Came down on gentle mission sent,
To change for tears a smile.
It matters not; God knows faith's wings
Droop sometimes in the dust,
And hands grow weak and lose their hold
On Hope's firm anchor trust;
And so, while sending dew and rain,
And glowing sunbeams bright.
God giveth unto those who hear,
Songs in the darkest night.
In Memoriam.
They are gone away,
No prayers could avail us to longer keep
The ships called out on the unknown deep,
We saw them sail off, some lingeringly,
Some suddenly summoned put out to sea;
They stepped aboard, and the planks were drawn in,
But their sweet, pale faces were free from sin;
As they turned to whisper one last good bye,
We sent after each one a bitter cry;
We knew on that track,
They would never come back,
By night or day.
Pages:
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65