Poems by the late John Bethune With a sketch of the author's life, by his brother |
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MY GRANDMOTHER. |
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| II. |
 | Poems by the late John Bethune |  |
MY GRANDMOTHER.
Long years of toil and care,
And pain and poverty have pass'd,
Since last I listen'd to her prayer,
And look'd upon her last—
Yet how she spoke, and how she smiled
Upon me, when a playful child;
The lustre of her eye—
The kind caress—the fond embrace—
The reverence of her placid face—
All in my memory lie
As fresh as they had only been
Bestow'd, and felt, and heard, and seen
Since yesterday went by.
And pain and poverty have pass'd,
Since last I listen'd to her prayer,
And look'd upon her last—
Yet how she spoke, and how she smiled
Upon me, when a playful child;
The lustre of her eye—
The kind caress—the fond embrace—
The reverence of her placid face—
All in my memory lie
As fresh as they had only been
Bestow'd, and felt, and heard, and seen
Since yesterday went by.
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Her dress so simply neat—
Her household tasks so featly done—
Even the old willow-wicker seat
On which she sat and spun—
The table where her Bible lay,
Open from morn till close of day—
The standish, and the pen,
With which she noted, as they rose,
Her thoughts upon the joys, the woes,
The final fate of men,
And sufferings of her Saviour-God—
Each object in her poor abode
Is visible as them.
Her household tasks so featly done—
Even the old willow-wicker seat
On which she sat and spun—
The table where her Bible lay,
Open from morn till close of day—
The standish, and the pen,
With which she noted, as they rose,
Her thoughts upon the joys, the woes,
The final fate of men,
And sufferings of her Saviour-God—
Each object in her poor abode
Is visible as them.
Nor are they all forgot—
The faithful admonitions given,
And glorious hopes which flattered not,
But led the soul to heaven:
These had been hers, and have been mine
When all beside had ceased to shine—
When sadness and disease,
And disappointment and suspense,
Had driven youth's fairest fancies hence,
Short'ning its fleeting lease:
'Twas then these hopes amid the dark,
Just glimmering like an unquench'd spark,
Dawn'd on me by degrees.
The faithful admonitions given,
And glorious hopes which flattered not,
But led the soul to heaven:
These had been hers, and have been mine
When all beside had ceased to shine—
When sadness and disease,
And disappointment and suspense,
Had driven youth's fairest fancies hence,
Short'ning its fleeting lease:
'Twas then these hopes amid the dark,
Just glimmering like an unquench'd spark,
Dawn'd on me by degrees.
To her they gave a light
Brighter than sun or star supplied;
And never did they shine more bright
Than just before she died.
Death's shadow dimm'd her aged eyes,
Gray clouds had clothed the evening skies,
And darkness was abroad;
But still she turn'd her gaze above,
As if the eternal light of love
On her glazed organs glowed;
Like beacon fire at closing even,
Hung out between the earth and heaven,
To guide her soul to God.
Brighter than sun or star supplied;
And never did they shine more bright
Than just before she died.
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Gray clouds had clothed the evening skies,
And darkness was abroad;
But still she turn'd her gaze above,
As if the eternal light of love
On her glazed organs glowed;
Like beacon fire at closing even,
Hung out between the earth and heaven,
To guide her soul to God.
And then they brighter grew,
Beaming with everlasting bliss,
As if the eternal world in view
Had wean'd her eyes from this;
And every feature was composed,
As with a placid smile they closed
On those who stood around,
Who felt it was a sin to weep
O'er such a smile, and such a sleep,
So peaceful, so profound:
And though they wept, their tears express'd
Joy for her time-worn frame at rest—
Her soul with mercy crown'd.
Beaming with everlasting bliss,
As if the eternal world in view
Had wean'd her eyes from this;
And every feature was composed,
As with a placid smile they closed
On those who stood around,
Who felt it was a sin to weep
O'er such a smile, and such a sleep,
So peaceful, so profound:
And though they wept, their tears express'd
Joy for her time-worn frame at rest—
Her soul with mercy crown'd.
Her last words, ere she died,
Were, “Friends and daughters, lay me down:
In Jesus bosom let me hide
Your spirits and my own!”
She stretch'd her limbs, composed her arms,
As death had been the prince of charms—
Nor breath'd a sigh or groan:
And then the calm, the heavenly grace
Which fell upon her reverent face!
Wrinkles, than roses blown
Seemed fairer far; the spirit shed
Such beauty, as it upward fled
To the eternal throne!
Were, “Friends and daughters, lay me down:
In Jesus bosom let me hide
Your spirits and my own!”
She stretch'd her limbs, composed her arms,
As death had been the prince of charms—
Nor breath'd a sigh or groan:
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Which fell upon her reverent face!
Wrinkles, than roses blown
Seemed fairer far; the spirit shed
Such beauty, as it upward fled
To the eternal throne!
| Poems by the late John Bethune | |