Coffin's Poems with Ajax' Ordeals

The sweet month of May was drawing to a close,
The month of hope and promise, of leaves
And sunshine that clothes the earth
With smiles, but fills many hearts with tears,
By calling the victims of consumption to its
Green gloom. It was the evening of the
Holy Sabbath. The public worship was near
Over, and never since has my heart been
So deeply touched as by the songs they sang.

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The children's voices sounded above all others.

They were singing, sweetly singing,
It was a lovely Sabbath day,
And the evening air was ringing,
About the little child, Angel May.
They sang of her stately sadness,
How 'twas whispered in heaven afar,
How she asked the watchman one favor.
To set the beautiful gates ajar,
“Only a little, I pray thee,
Set the beautiful gates ajar.”
“I can hear my mother weeping,”
Said the child in a trembling tone,
Feeling that heaven she couldn't enjoy,
With mother on earth alone,
She felt that when the gate was closed,
Her mother couldn't see her so far;
So she cried, “O angel give me the key,
And I'll set the gate ajar,
Only a little I pray thee,
Set the beautiful gate ajar.”

The warden knew not a mother's worth,
Hence could not feel for the child,
And prompted by heavenly duty,
He answered her with a smile.

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And when the child impressed it,
Speaking of mother afar,
The warden answered “I dare not
Set the beautiful gates ajar,”
In a low calm way I dare not,
“Set the beautiful gate ajar.”
Then up rose Mary the blessed,
The mother of the Savior of men,
Who knew the child's young feelings,
Who had motherly feelings within,
She laid her hand on the angel,
Whose feelings were just at par,
The warden, seeing her expression,
Set the beautiful gate ajar—
Just for the sake of the mother,
Set the beautiful gate ajar.

Turned was the key in the portal,
Fell ringing the golden bar,
And, lo, in the little child's fingers,
Stood the beautiful gate ajar.

With exultation I was about to rise when
A stir was made, and a man rose whom
I can never forget. He was an old man
Upon whose frame the years of a
Century had left their traces; while

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As snow his white beard hung upon his
Breast; and although the lower part of his
Face was sunken by extreme age, his eyes
Beamed with a fadeless benevolence and his
Brow had scarcely a wrinkle. They told me
Afterward, that he was the most loved
Companion of Christ and in sweetness of tem-
Per most like the children.

Unable to support himself, he was carried
Forward in the arms of his friends to the
Little rostrum at the end of the room.
All rose to greet him, and even little children
Looking up into his face with affectionate
Joy, as he whispered “Bless the children.”
Having reached the stand, he attempted to
Speak, but failing, sunk into the arms
Of friends.
Eyes swam in tears,
Hearts melted in sorrow.
After a little, he revived. They raised
Him up again. He looked around like a
Father taking his last farewell, then
Stretched forth his hands above the group,
And, while tears ran down his cheeks,
He cried with tremulous voice,
“Little children love one another.”

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He could say no more. It was his last
Sermon. He looked around upom them again
With a smile of divine sweetness and
His lips moved, but we heard nothing. His
Eyes fell upon me and with a feeble gesture
He beckoned me to him and seemed to read
My countenance. “Sir,” said I, “You and
The children almost persuadest me to
Be a Christian. You are fixing to
Leave me. The children will be with me,
We are to battle life for each other. I
Pray thee leave me thy grace.”
Grasping my hand he said, “I leave
You seven words, give them to the
Children, they are Faith, Hope, Charity,
Peace, Joy, Truth and Love.”
“Father,” said I, “can't you tell me what is faith?”
He whispered distinctly—
“Faith is that which you see descending
Down from the realms of celestial light,
Something that's on the cross depending
Guiding children through this life aright.”
And what is hope?
“Hope has a sight which nerves the weary,
And all of its brightness in luster shines,

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It lights the path when all life seems dreary,
It cheers when all our strength declines.”
And what is charity?
“Charity comes in and helps soothe the dying,
Its ears are open to the orphan's wail,
It hears the voice of the homeless crying,
It feeds the hungry and protects the frail.”
And what is peace?
“Peace is a calm, meek, tender glory,
That fills our souls with the pride of life,
It helps the youth and the age when hoary,
It is free from passion, from war, and strife.”
And what is joy?
Joy comes pure as a fragrant flower,
Its blossoms are scattered along life's stream,
It cheers the heart in its youthful hours,
And lulls men's cares like a merry dream.”
And what is truth?
“Truth comes in a majestic splendor,
And its light shines in all honest souls,
It makes men just, in their nature tender,
It gives all strength to character it holds.”

I will not ask you what is love, for I believe
That is a combination of these six.
The mortal spasm now grasped him. Once
More he spake, but it was with the energy

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Of strong health, “Even so, Lord Jesus take
Me”—he was asleep in death. I
Turned to leave and

A poor wayfaring man of grief
Was standing by my side,
Who sued my conscience for relief,
His wounded side I eyed.

He uttered not a single word,
But showed his nail'd print hand;
He saw my heart was so bestir'd,
He said “You understand.”

He said “go to some mountain,
And call the children near;
You dip them in a fountain,
And teach their heart to fear.”

He then left me. I am now a
Christian. Children I have many things to
Tell you, and through grace I intend
To tell them yet.
A week passed and one of the blandest
Mornings in June that ever the sun rose
Upon, I visited his library and found
On a tablet these words: “Jesus is very
Precious to my soul, my all in all, and I
Expect to be saved by free grace through
His atoning blood. This is my testimony.”

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I left the room resolving within
Myself to make his testimony my
Testimony and to

Love the children just as he did,
Who for love once sweetly pleaded;
Trust and guide, and never doubt
Build a wall of love about.

But I've always loved the jewels,
Always thought that it was cruel,
To efface their youthful beauty
It has been a life-time duty.

Yes, I love them, I remember,
May is not like cold December.
If I've words of rage and madness,
Always check it from their gladness.

When my heart is filled with kindness,
And to evil shows its blindness;
Then it's time to turn my whole heart
Into the porte called children's mart.

When I'm thinking of my Savior,
When I'm seeking good behavior;
When I look for earthly angels,
Then I with the children mingle.

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When the general roll is thunder'd,
If among the saints I'm number'd,
I will search that place of honor,
'Till I find the children's corner.

“And now little children, abide in him; that, when he shall appear, we may have confidence, and not be ashamed before him at his coming.”

—I John, 2:28.

University of Virginia Library

The Simple Reason.

III John, 1:4.