The man of Uz, and other poems | ||
273
MISS ELIZABETH BRINLEY,
We miss her at the chancel-side,
For when we last drew near,
The holy Eucharist to share,
She, with the warmth of praise and prayer
Was meekly kneeling here.
For when we last drew near,
The holy Eucharist to share,
She, with the warmth of praise and prayer
Was meekly kneeling here.
We miss her when the liberal hand
Relieves a thirsting soil,
And when the Blessed Church demands
Assistance for the mission bands
That on her frontier toil.
Relieves a thirsting soil,
And when the Blessed Church demands
Assistance for the mission bands
That on her frontier toil.
We miss her 'mid the gather'd train
Of children young and poor,
Whom year by year she deign'd to teach
With faithful zeal and patient speech,
And hope that anchor'd sure.
Of children young and poor,
Whom year by year she deign'd to teach
With faithful zeal and patient speech,
And hope that anchor'd sure.
274
Her couch is in the ancestral tomb
With Putnam's honor'd dust,
The true in word, the bold in deed,
A bulwark in his Country's need,
A tower of strength and trust.
With Putnam's honor'd dust,
The true in word, the bold in deed,
A bulwark in his Country's need,
A tower of strength and trust.
Her spirit's home is with her Lord,
Whom from her youth she sought,
The miss'd below hath found above
The promise of a God of Love
Made to the pure in thought.
Whom from her youth she sought,
The miss'd below hath found above
The promise of a God of Love
Made to the pure in thought.
The man of Uz, and other poems | ||