BETA

In Memoriam.

A. W. E., aged five years, who fell when at play,
a distance of fifty-five feet, and was instantly
killed.

In thy dear grave upon yon flower-decked hill1
Thou’rt wrapped in sleep as silent as the tomb ;2
Yet one fond heart with love for thee doth thrill,3
And snatcheth comfort from the deep’ning gloom.4
My child, my darling child ! arouse thee now ;5
Night casts her mantle o’er the slumb’ring land ;6
Awake ! and let me kiss thy placid brow,7
And smooth thy hair down with this trembling hand.8
Come, let me clasp thee to this weary breast,9
And for one rapturous moment rob the grave ;10
Ay ! come and give my aching bosom rest ;11
And sing, as thou wert wont, the pretty stave—12
Wherein ’tis told that Jesus loves His own,13
And how to Him all little ones belong ;14
Yes, come, my darling, from thy heav’nly throne,15
And cheer my heart again with thy sweet song.16
Oh, cruel, cruel fate !— Yet, why so mourn ?17
Happier far art thou than we who weep ;18
Though fain would I have kept thee from that bourn19
Whence mortals. ne’er return—the land of Sleep.20
But no more pain shall rack thy little frame,21
Nor tears again o’erflow from those dear eyes ;22
No more can Death my own loved darling claim,23
For thou hast fought the fight—and won a fadeless
prize.24
Oh, Jesu, Jesu ! list a father’s cry !25
Shew me the path that leadeth unto God.26
Teach me, O Lord, to bear this agony,27
And tread the way my little one hath trod.28
I see thee now :— Oh, come, my darling boy,29
And lay thy wounded head upon my breast.30
Oh, bless thee, bless thee, for this heav’nly joy !—31
There, nestle here, as erst thou used to rest.32
Ah, see ! a glittering concourse now appears,33
And to my angel boy a crown is given ;34
And while my face is bathed in useless tears35
They bear him gently to God’s highest heaven.36
J. A. Elliott.