Something for every body gleaned in the old purchase, from fields often reaped |
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 | Something for every body |  |
219
LINES,
At the return of a Missionary's Wife from Africa, immediately after
burying her Husband, who died in a few months after he had
commenced there his labors.
Come, thou bereav'd one! Christian love spreads wide
Her arms to fold thee near our tend'rest hearts!
There rest thy head, while with thy sorrow's tide
Our grief commingles: thine, fresh gushing, starts,
For thou, Naomi-like, art widow'd come,
So stricken back, to seek thy childhood's home!
Sister! tears sadden'd, late, thy farewell hour;
Yet buoy'd with hope, and strong in faith, and warm
With heav'nly zeal, thou shedd'st a sunlit shower—
Joy so gleam'd mid tears; and firmly on th' arm
Of warrior true—but not to shed men's blood—
Trustful inclin'd, thou daredst the billowy flood.
Sister! that youth was 'listed for the life!
Sworn at thy bridal his, for weal or woe,
Thou wast, the campaign through, a soldier's wife;
And bless'd wast thou, when bid of God to go,
Tho' thy sole task to stay his fainting breast
With words of Christ, and see him pass to rest.
Sister! how soon the call for battle came
With the grim foe! How soon, alas! 'twas thine,
Though not amid the tented field of fame,
Where men of strife, gory and gash'd, recline
On honor's bed, yet still to see him slain!
But conq'ror then, he found death's dart was vain.
Sister! thy soul in that sad hour was rent
With keenest pangs! Yet with thy bitter cries
Rose mingled thanks to God, that thou wast sent
To that far land, to shut those darken'd eyes,
The death-damps from that changing face to lave,
And lay thy lov'd one in that strange, lone grave!
Sister! oh! sob no more, as tho' the strings
Burst from thy swelling heart! From Afric's shores
Heav'nward bend thy thoughts:—see! on seraph wings
Triumphing, he, thro' burning hosts, upsoars,
Eyeing that crown, gift of redeeming love!
Oh! stay thy tears! He reigns with Christ above!
Her arms to fold thee near our tend'rest hearts!
There rest thy head, while with thy sorrow's tide
Our grief commingles: thine, fresh gushing, starts,
For thou, Naomi-like, art widow'd come,
So stricken back, to seek thy childhood's home!
Sister! tears sadden'd, late, thy farewell hour;
Yet buoy'd with hope, and strong in faith, and warm
With heav'nly zeal, thou shedd'st a sunlit shower—
Joy so gleam'd mid tears; and firmly on th' arm
Of warrior true—but not to shed men's blood—
Trustful inclin'd, thou daredst the billowy flood.
Sister! that youth was 'listed for the life!
Sworn at thy bridal his, for weal or woe,
Thou wast, the campaign through, a soldier's wife;
And bless'd wast thou, when bid of God to go,
Tho' thy sole task to stay his fainting breast
With words of Christ, and see him pass to rest.
Sister! how soon the call for battle came
With the grim foe! How soon, alas! 'twas thine,
Though not amid the tented field of fame,
Where men of strife, gory and gash'd, recline
On honor's bed, yet still to see him slain!
But conq'ror then, he found death's dart was vain.
Sister! thy soul in that sad hour was rent
With keenest pangs! Yet with thy bitter cries
Rose mingled thanks to God, that thou wast sent
To that far land, to shut those darken'd eyes,
The death-damps from that changing face to lave,
And lay thy lov'd one in that strange, lone grave!
Sister! oh! sob no more, as tho' the strings
Burst from thy swelling heart! From Afric's shores
Heav'nward bend thy thoughts:—see! on seraph wings
Triumphing, he, thro' burning hosts, upsoars,
Eyeing that crown, gift of redeeming love!
Oh! stay thy tears! He reigns with Christ above!
220
Sister! thy husband's God will ever shield
His wife. Faith, zeal, and toil for pagan lands,
From love of souls, or mid the scorching field,
Or ocean's waste, Christ graves upon his hands!
The honor'd spouse that shar'd dear Alward's fight,
Shares joy and praise, when faith is lost in sight.
His wife. Faith, zeal, and toil for pagan lands,
From love of souls, or mid the scorching field,
Or ocean's waste, Christ graves upon his hands!
The honor'd spouse that shar'd dear Alward's fight,
Shares joy and praise, when faith is lost in sight.
| Something for every body | |