 | Poems by the late John Bethune |  |
A RANDOM THOUGHT.
If some could 'scape the gloomy grave,
And live in this low world for ever,
Then friends might weep if nought could save
A friend beloved from death's dark river.
And live in this low world for ever,
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A friend beloved from death's dark river.
But all must go; the rich—the poor—
Must cross that stream!—what matter when?
The longest here will most endure,
While friends in sorrow see their pain.
Must cross that stream!—what matter when?
The longest here will most endure,
While friends in sorrow see their pain.
Yet weep!—these drops the heart relieve
When we are left and friends are gone;
And he is poor who cannot grieve
When left upon the earth alone.
When we are left and friends are gone;
And he is poor who cannot grieve
When left upon the earth alone.
Then let our wish to God on high,
Through life, be such a wish as this,
To live until prepared to die,
And only die when fit for bliss.
Through life, be such a wish as this,
To live until prepared to die,
And only die when fit for bliss.
| Poems by the late John Bethune | |