 | [Poems by Cary in] The poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary |  |
A GOOD MAN.
A man he was, of thin and silver hairs,
Whose pious hands and never wearied feet
Kept from a sacred field the enemy's tares,
And nursed to vigorous growth the precious wheat.
Whose pious hands and never wearied feet
Kept from a sacred field the enemy's tares,
And nursed to vigorous growth the precious wheat.
Though he had loved and kept the rule of right,
After the strictest manner, from his youth,
Often his prayer went up for larger light,
And deeper, holier reverence for truth.
After the strictest manner, from his youth,
Often his prayer went up for larger light,
And deeper, holier reverence for truth.
Hard by the village church his mansion stood,
Modest of bound, yet hospitably wide;
His highest eloquence was doing good,
His simple meekness the rebuke of pride.
Modest of bound, yet hospitably wide;
His highest eloquence was doing good,
His simple meekness the rebuke of pride.
Oh! vainly cheerful glowed the evening fire,
Amply in vain the housewife's board was spread,
That night when homeward came the toil-worn sire
And told his children the good man was dead.
Amply in vain the housewife's board was spread,
That night when homeward came the toil-worn sire
And told his children the good man was dead.
51
Within God's holy temple there was woe—
Woe that the Book of Life might scarce assuage;
The tremulous voice was dumb, and the white flow
Of reverend locks swept not the sacred page.
Woe that the Book of Life might scarce assuage;
The tremulous voice was dumb, and the white flow
Of reverend locks swept not the sacred page.
Oft had that man of God, while living, said,
“Wherefore, my children, do you vainly weep?
The friend you mourn so sadly is not dead,
But only fallen in the Lord asleep!”
“Wherefore, my children, do you vainly weep?
The friend you mourn so sadly is not dead,
But only fallen in the Lord asleep!”
For he had preached, with zeal that would not cease,
Christ and the resurrection, not in vain;
For, like a benediction full of peace,
Came the blest memory to the weeping train.
Christ and the resurrection, not in vain;
For, like a benediction full of peace,
Came the blest memory to the weeping train.
And they rose up with souls less sadly dim,
Young men, and maidens, and the bowed with care,
Feeling that death had only been to him
God's hour of answer to a life of prayer.
Young men, and maidens, and the bowed with care,
Feeling that death had only been to him
God's hour of answer to a life of prayer.
| [Poems by Cary in] The poems of Alice and Phoebe Cary | |