University of Virginia Library

[Ofttimes he whom pleasure leadeth]

On the Death of a Child

Night veils not with a cloud the stars on high,
From care reposeth every creature now,
Unstirred each flower and motionless each bough,
Now wrapp'd in slumber ocean, earth, and sky.
Lone mother sable clad, with weeping eye,
With hair dishevell'd and uplifted brow,
By death bereaved unceasingly dost thou
O'er thy lost child in bitter anguish sigh.
Lady, that star to which thy fixed eyes cling,
That mystic brightness which absorbs thy gaze,
It is thy child—a star in Paradise;
It is thy child who on angelic wing
The air thou breathest to thy lip conveys;
A sigh from him which to thine own replies.

The Crucifix

I fix devoutly on the Cross mine eyes,
Where with bent head, with arms extended wide,
Thorns on His brow and spear-wound in His side,
The bleeding body of the Saviour lies.
Thoughts of past sin in sad remembrance rise,
While on the image of the Crucified
My tear drops fall; “Thou who for sinners died
Have mercy, Lord!” my guilty conscience cries.
His strength upholding may it be my care
To read the teaching of His Cross aright,
And joy to suffer all He bids me bear;
Not trials only and afflictions light.
Those keener sorrows may I love to share
Which still more closely to Himself unite.

Blindness

No rising sunbeam cheers me with its ray,
'Tis as though light had ne'er created been,
As though this world and all that is therein,
Still without form and void, in darkness lay.
One from my side has pass'd unseen away,
Snatched from this world of darkness and of sin;
My prayer, my hope that I may likewise win
And share with her the light of endless day.
As on my way a friendly arm I need
To guide my steps, lest they some peril meet,
Some snare encounter as I onward speed,
My soul a guide in its Redeemer hath;
Lord! be Thy word a lantern to my feet,
A light to light me on my heavenward path.

The Departed

When, Gracious Lord, Thy Holy Name I bless
For those departed in Thy faith and fear,
When, ere Thine altar venturing to draw near,
With heart-felt sorrow I my sins confess;
With the same look of loving thankfulness
As when on earth, that form to memory dear
Doth meekly kneeling at my side appear,
E'en while Thy chalice to my lips I press.
Let not that vision, Lord, Thy presence wrong,
May it assure me that before Thy throne
Her prayer for my forgiveness intercedes,
And may I, following the example shown
By that pure soul now with the sainted throng,
Win, through Thy merits, that for which she pleads.

[He from whom the sun is hidden]