The poetical works of John Greenleaf Whittier | ||
WILLIAM FORSTER.
William Forster, of Norwich, England, died in East Tennessee, in the 1st month, 1854, while engaged in presenting to the governors of the States of this Union the address of his religious society on the evils of slavery. He was the relative and coadjutor of the Buxtons, Gurneys, and Frys; and his whole life, extending almost to threescore and ten years, was a pure and beautiful example of Christian benevolence. He had travelled over Europe, and visited most of its sovereigns, to plead against the slave-trade and slavery; and had twice before made visits to this country, under impressions of religious duty. He was the father of the Right Hon. William Edward Forster. He visited my father's house in Haverhill during his first tour in the United States.
Was laid upon my head,
Too weak and young to understand
The serious words he said.
Before me seems to swim,
As if some inward feeling took
The outward guise of him.
Or near temptation's charm,
Through him the low-voiced monitor
Forewarned me of the harm.
Of meeting, first and last,
His reverent steps have passed.
To proffer life to death,
Hope to the erring,—to the weak
The strength of his own faith.
The sting of hate from Law;
And soften in the fire of love
The hardened steel of War.
Still guidance of the Light;
In tearful tenderness a child,
A strong man in the right.
He found, in prayer, release;
Through what abysmal shadows lay
His pathway unto peace,
The tranquil strength he gained;
The bondage lost in liberty,
The fear in love unfeigned.
The habit of the man,
Whose field of life by angels sown
The wilding vines o'erran,—
My manhood's heart enjoys
That reverence for the pure and good
Which blessed the dreaming boy's.
Like star-beams over doubt;
Each sainted memory, Christlike, drives
Some dark possession out.
Thy life so calm and true,
The silver dropping of the rain,
The fall of summer dew!
Their lives like thine might be!
But more shall pray henceforth for aid
To lay them down like thee.
In old age as in youth,
Thy Master found thee sowing still
The good seed of His truth.
In golden-skied decline,
His angel met thee on the way,
And lent his arm to thine.
Of earthly thought a prayer,—
Oh, who thy mantle, backward cast,
Is worthy now to wear?
Might bless our land and save,
As rose, of old, to life the dead
Who touched the prophet's grave!
The poetical works of John Greenleaf Whittier | ||