The Two Brothers, and other poems By Edward Henry Bickersteth |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. | VI.
THE UNKNOWN TO-MORROW. |
| VII. |
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 | The Two Brothers, and other poems |  |
VI. THE UNKNOWN TO-MORROW.
So he is gone: it was but yesterday
He spent in piloting his cumbrous car
Through crowds of men and tangled thoroughfares
Of this great city. Evening came, and night;
And having done his duty he return'd,
Worn out and weary, to his quiet home.
There the sweet love of wife, a daughter's care,
The soft low breath of younger children sleeping,
And thoughts, that wander'd to his absent boy,
Refresh'd him. On his knees he sank in prayer,
Short, earnest, true,—and laid him down to rest.
He spent in piloting his cumbrous car
Through crowds of men and tangled thoroughfares
Of this great city. Evening came, and night;
And having done his duty he return'd,
Worn out and weary, to his quiet home.
There the sweet love of wife, a daughter's care,
The soft low breath of younger children sleeping,
And thoughts, that wander'd to his absent boy,
Refresh'd him. On his knees he sank in prayer,
Short, earnest, true,—and laid him down to rest.
It was his last day's work. Where is he now?
Where is he? Suddenly the message came;
And angels bare him on their wings of love
Into his Saviour's presence. No more toil;
No more the din and discord of the world;
No more the weary warfare of the heart.
He sleeps in Jesus: on his head a crown
Of glory; in his hand a harp of praise;
And music of the blessed spirits, who walk
The golden streets, about him echoing joy
And welcoming another traveller home.
211
And angels bare him on their wings of love
Into his Saviour's presence. No more toil;
No more the din and discord of the world;
No more the weary warfare of the heart.
He sleeps in Jesus: on his head a crown
Of glory; in his hand a harp of praise;
And music of the blessed spirits, who walk
The golden streets, about him echoing joy
And welcoming another traveller home.
1863.
| The Two Brothers, and other poems | |