Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Friend of my Youth! when late I led
To holy rites my dearest maid,
Thy voice pronounc'd her mine:
Another wish hath fill'd my breast;
To lull that other wish to rest,
Friend of my Youth, is thine.

Thy gift my life with gladness crowns;
Thy promis'd aid shall make the frowns
Of death appear more mild:
While pleas'd I think, that tho' on me
The grave may close, I leave in thee
A father to my child.

For thou, as dawning reason beams,
Wilt lift his soul to heav'nly themes;
And thou his infant tongue
Wilt form to lisp his Saviour's praise,
In holy hymns, on elder days
By Sion's children sung:

And thou wilt train his rising age,
Throughout this earthly pilgrimage
With awful step to move;
With tender and contented heart
In human scenes to bear his part,
But fix his hopes above.

As wash'd by many a dewy rill,
Mid Carmel's wood or Hermon's hill
Some pleasant palm-tree springs;
And downward strikes his grasping root;

And upward, charg'd with purple fruit,
His goodly branches flings:

So may thy care (if heav'n deny
The blessing to a father's eye)
The tender nursling raise;
While love, around his path, and faith,
With glist'ning eye that smiles on death,
Diffuse their mildest rays.

The sight shall soothe his mother's woe;
With joy her widow'd heart shall glow,
Whene'er her child appears;
Amid her praise of heav'n, shall see
Heav'n's gracious instrument in thee,
And thank thee with her tears.

Nor shall the debt be then forgot
By me, if mine the blessed lot,

This day of trial o'er,
In that serene and peaceful clime
To meet thee, O my friend, where time
And death shall be no more.

For not in vain the pious trust,
That thou, awaking from the dust,
Shalt hear thy Lord's decree;
“Where'er to this my little one
“A deed of mercy thou hast done,
“Thou'st done it unto me.”