 | The poetical works of Samuel Woodworth |  |
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ON THE DEATH OF AN INFANT.
Almighty God! 'tis right, 'tis just,
That earthly frames should turn to dust;
But, ah! forgive the wishful tear,
That would detain a spirit here.
That earthly frames should turn to dust;
But, ah! forgive the wishful tear,
That would detain a spirit here.
Go, gentle babe, to realms of bliss,
The chastening rod we humbly kiss;
Thy Saviour calls thee home, my son,
And let his holy will be done.
The chastening rod we humbly kiss;
Thy Saviour calls thee home, my son,
And let his holy will be done.
Thy earthly form, now icy cold,
Was framed in beauty's fairest mould;
But now, prepared by love divine,
A fairer, brighter form is thine.
Was framed in beauty's fairest mould;
But now, prepared by love divine,
A fairer, brighter form is thine.
Thy earthly parents loved thee well—
So much, that language fails to tell;
But, ah! our love was weak and poor,
Thy heavenly Parent loves thee more.
So much, that language fails to tell;
But, ah! our love was weak and poor,
Thy heavenly Parent loves thee more.
Here, thou wert tenderly caressed,
Upon a fond maternal breast;
But angel-nurses, forms of love,
Shall now caress my babe above.
Upon a fond maternal breast;
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Shall now caress my babe above.
Fain would paternal love have taught
Thy little opening world of thought;
But we the pleasing task resign
To heavenly schools, and books divine.
Thy little opening world of thought;
But we the pleasing task resign
To heavenly schools, and books divine.
'T was all our thoughts and wishes still
To guard our darling here from ill;
But that great God who called thee home,
Has saved from greater ills to come.
To guard our darling here from ill;
But that great God who called thee home,
Has saved from greater ills to come.
Then let us hush the rising sigh,
And bid affliction's tear be dry;
Our child still lives, his sorrows o'er,
Where we shall meet to part no more.
And bid affliction's tear be dry;
Our child still lives, his sorrows o'er,
Where we shall meet to part no more.
There, shall the sweet maternal kiss,
Increase his joy—enhance his bliss;
There, through redeeming love and grace,
The father shall his son embrace.
Increase his joy—enhance his bliss;
There, through redeeming love and grace,
The father shall his son embrace.
Almighty God! 't is right, 't is just,
That earthly frames should turn to dust;
But, oh! the sweet, transporting truth—
The soul shall bloom in endless youth.
That earthly frames should turn to dust;
But, oh! the sweet, transporting truth—
The soul shall bloom in endless youth.
| The poetical works of Samuel Woodworth | |