My Lyrical Life Poems Old and New. By Gerald Massey |
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 | My Lyrical Life |  |
XII.
Then, silent Fabyan lifted up his look,
Bright as a Daisy when the dews have dried;
A sudden thought struck all the sun in his face.
“Martha and Dora, I know what I'll do!
I'll write a Letter to the good Lord Jesus,
Who helps us if we put our trust in Him.”
The sisters smiled upon him through their tears.
Bright as a Daisy when the dews have dried;
A sudden thought struck all the sun in his face.
“Martha and Dora, I know what I'll do!
I'll write a Letter to the good Lord Jesus,
Who helps us if we put our trust in Him.”
The sisters smiled upon him through their tears.
This was the Letter little Fabyan wrote.
216
“Dear, beautiful Lord Jesus,
Christmas is drawing near;
Its many shining sights we see,
Its merry sounds we hear:
With presents for good Children,
I know Thou art going now,
From house to house with Christmas trees,
And lights on every bough.
Christmas is drawing near;
Its many shining sights we see,
Its merry sounds we hear:
With presents for good Children,
I know Thou art going now,
From house to house with Christmas trees,
And lights on every bough.
“I pray thee, good Lord Jesus,
To bring one tree to us,
All aglow with fruits of gold,
And leaves all luminous.
We have no Mother, and, where we live,
No Christmas gifts are given;
We have no Friends on earth, but Thou
Art our good Friend in Heaven.
To bring one tree to us,
All aglow with fruits of gold,
And leaves all luminous.
We have no Mother, and, where we live,
No Christmas gifts are given;
We have no Friends on earth, but Thou
Art our good Friend in Heaven.
“My Sisters, gentle Jesus,
They hide the worst from me;
But I have ears that sometimes hear,
And eyes that often see.
Poor Martha's cloak is worn threadbare,
Poor Dora's boots are old;
And neither of them strong like me,
To stand the wintry cold.
They hide the worst from me;
But I have ears that sometimes hear,
And eyes that often see.
Poor Martha's cloak is worn threadbare,
Poor Dora's boots are old;
And neither of them strong like me,
To stand the wintry cold.
“But most of all, Lord Jesus,
Grandfather is so ill;
'Tis very sad to hear him moan,
And startling when he's still.
Ah! well I know, Lord Jesus,
If Thou would'st only come,
He'd look, and rise, and leave his bed,
As Lazarus left his tomb.
Grandfather is so ill;
'Tis very sad to hear him moan,
And startling when he's still.
Ah! well I know, Lord Jesus,
If Thou would'st only come,
He'd look, and rise, and leave his bed,
As Lazarus left his tomb.
217
“Forget us not, Lord Jesus,
I and my sisters dear;
We love Thee! when Thou wert a Child
Had we been only near,
And seen Thee lying, bonny babe,
In manger or in stall,
Thou should'st have had a home with us;
We would have given Thee all.”
I and my sisters dear;
We love Thee! when Thou wert a Child
Had we been only near,
And seen Thee lying, bonny babe,
In manger or in stall,
Thou should'st have had a home with us;
We would have given Thee all.”
| My Lyrical Life | |