The Two Brothers, and other poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

We press'd the closer to his side, we hung upon his lips,
For now was pass'd the transient cloud of memory's eclipse;
And she, upon whose tender arm he faintly lean'd his head,
Caught as heaven's whisper every word the dying pastor said.

Few priceless words they dropp'd like balm on her's and every heart—
“To live is Christ; to die is gain: 'tis better to depart.”
There was no tremour in his voice, no gloomy shadow o'er him:
It might have been another's death, and not his own, before him.

There was a moment's pause; and lo, the radiance in his eye
Grew ever brighter and more bright, as glory was more nigh:

313

And, as they mark'd that trustful gaze, it seem'd to those around,
As if he saw some viewless sight and heard some voiceless sound.

He speaks,—list “Mother;” and once more a silence fill'd the room.
List “Angels;” had they come to bear the weary pilgrim home?
List “Jesus;” and the word he held the loveliest was his last;
For, breathing forth his Master's name, the servant homeward pass'd.

Farewell, dear brother, faithful friend; farewell a little while,
Until we meet at glory's gate thy glad home-welcome smile.
Ours be thy patient pathway here; and then thy holy rest,
Embraced with love from earth and heaven, upon thy Saviour's breast.

1871.