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153
IN MEMORIAM ET SPEM ÆTERNAM.
The best of earth's best things would I have won thee,
In richest store;
But my fond hands were weak, belov'd, to crown thee,
My treasures poor!
Now God has given thee His best things, belovëd,
And they are more.
Service the loftiest this earth can render
Thou shouldst have won,
Such honour, here, as all who knew felt due thee,
Who claimedst none!
God gives thee service now to which earth's highest
Were low and poor,
Crowns with the crown of His “Well done,” for ever;
And that is more.
In richest store;
But my fond hands were weak, belov'd, to crown thee,
My treasures poor!
Now God has given thee His best things, belovëd,
And they are more.
Service the loftiest this earth can render
Thou shouldst have won,
Such honour, here, as all who knew felt due thee,
Who claimedst none!
God gives thee service now to which earth's highest
Were low and poor,
Crowns with the crown of His “Well done,” for ever;
And that is more.
From patient toiling here and little reaping
God called thee home;
Just when the harvest of thy toil was ripening
He bid thee come.—
The path thou lovedst closed to thee in boyhood,
Yet lov'd life-long.
Bravely thou tookest up the yoke laid on thee,
Patient and strong;
Content and earnest as in paths self-chosen
Pursu'dst thy way,
Toiledst thy thirty patient years for others,
From day to day,
And when thy reaping-time at last seemed coming
Wert called away.
From all the bright, ripe fields before thee widening
God called thee hence;—
He would not give one portion of thy guerdon
In earth's poor pence;
Thy hands are full, belovëd, now of God's own riches
Fadeless and fair;
Thou passedst Time in Time's best work of sowing,
And reapest there!
God called thee home;
154
He bid thee come.—
The path thou lovedst closed to thee in boyhood,
Yet lov'd life-long.
Bravely thou tookest up the yoke laid on thee,
Patient and strong;
Content and earnest as in paths self-chosen
Pursu'dst thy way,
Toiledst thy thirty patient years for others,
From day to day,
And when thy reaping-time at last seemed coming
Wert called away.
From all the bright, ripe fields before thee widening
God called thee hence;—
He would not give one portion of thy guerdon
In earth's poor pence;
Thy hands are full, belovëd, now of God's own riches
Fadeless and fair;
Thou passedst Time in Time's best work of sowing,
And reapest there!
Yet dare I speak, e'en here, of little reaping,
Lest I repine?
Nor fear to mar with fond words of complaining
The peace of thine?
Nor fear to soil the glory of thy meekness
With praise of mine?
Unconscious of the beauty of thy living
Thou passedst on,
Shining unconscious as God's best and truest
Ever have shone.
Thou reapedst in the light thy life shed round thee,
The trust it won.
(Thank God, we saw it as we walked beside thee,
Not first, too late,
In all the anguish of this blank and darkness
Left desolate!)
Thou reapedst in the deep peace of thy dying,
All conflicts o'er,
Thy last step into heaven but one of thousands
Which went before,
Abundant entrance, opening for one moment
On us heaven's door!
Thou reapedst in the heritage thou leavest,
Prayers of the poor,—
The Master's likeness on our hearts engraven
For evermore.
Lest I repine?
Nor fear to mar with fond words of complaining
The peace of thine?
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With praise of mine?
Unconscious of the beauty of thy living
Thou passedst on,
Shining unconscious as God's best and truest
Ever have shone.
Thou reapedst in the light thy life shed round thee,
The trust it won.
(Thank God, we saw it as we walked beside thee,
Not first, too late,
In all the anguish of this blank and darkness
Left desolate!)
Thou reapedst in the deep peace of thy dying,
All conflicts o'er,
Thy last step into heaven but one of thousands
Which went before,
Abundant entrance, opening for one moment
On us heaven's door!
Thou reapedst in the heritage thou leavest,
Prayers of the poor,—
The Master's likeness on our hearts engraven
For evermore.
I dare not speak, e'en here, of little reaping
In earth's poor store;
Thou reapedst here in God's best things, belovëd,
And they are more.
A heart made glad with God's own wealth of gladness,
Calm to the core;
A heart made full as human love could fill it,
And peace Divine;
That on this earth which was to thee the dearest,
Entirely thine;—
Nay, e'en on earth in earth's best things thou reapedst,
Earth's richest store!
Thou reapest now in God's best things, belovëd,—
And they are more.
In earth's poor store;
156
And they are more.
A heart made glad with God's own wealth of gladness,
Calm to the core;
A heart made full as human love could fill it,
And peace Divine;
That on this earth which was to thee the dearest,
Entirely thine;—
Nay, e'en on earth in earth's best things thou reapedst,
Earth's richest store!
Thou reapest now in God's best things, belovëd,—
And they are more.
June, 1868.
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