The sunshine of eternal rest: Abide, my child, where thou art, blest; I with our friends will onward fare, "GO HENCE, MY CHILD." GOTTFRIED HOFFMANN (1658). Translated from the German by Rev. JOHN Guthrie, M.A., Glasgow. Go hence, my child! God calls thee to depart From out this world of woe. I weep full sore; thy death has wrung my heart; I'll put all vain laments away, Go hence, my child! Go hence, my child! To me thou wert but lent Awhile on earth to roam; And now the summons comes; thy day is spent ; And thou must hie thee home. Then go, for 'tis God's wise decree, And as He wills, so let it be: Go hence, my child! Go hence, my child! Thou find'st in heaven that rest Which earth could not bestow; 'Tis only with thy God thou canst be blest, Here we must grieve and inly pine, Go hence, my child! We follow all apace, As God may bid us go. Forth didst thou haste, ere yet earth's bitterness Dashed thy young life below. A life prolonged is lingering pain, An early death is speedy gain: Go hence, my child! Already angels wait To bear thy spirit bright, Where God's dear Son shall meet thee at heaven's gate, And crown thy brows with light. DANTE'S VISION. Now contemplate the Providence divine; Whence Faith, as viewed on its two several sides, Shall equally in this fair garden shine. And know that downward from the lofty throne, Which in the middle the two parts divides, No one is there through merit of his own, But through Another's; and upon conditions; For all these souls freed from the body were, Ere upon choice were founded their volitions. This may you be convinced of (if due pains You take to mark them, and their accents hear) Both by their looks, and by their childish strains. Yet now you doubt, and still your doubts withhold: But though your bonds are intricate, yet I Will strive your subtle reasonings to unfold. Within this peaceful kingdom's wide domain No room is to be found for casualty, No dwelling there for hunger, thirst, or pain For in this realm is 'stablished every thing Under the sanction of eternal laws, As to the finger answereth a ring; Therefore the children that herein do press To life eternal, not without a cause Inherit excellence or more or less. "OUR WEE WHITE ROSE." GERALD MASSEY. ALL in our marriage garden Sucked the green warmth of the sod. Its little life unfurled; Love's crowning sweetness was our wee White Rose of all the world. From out a balmy bosom, Our bud of beauty grew; It fed on smiles for sunshine, Two flowers of glorious crimson I' the wind of life they danced with glee, More white and wondrous grew our wee With mystical faint fragrance, Upon the petals of our wee White Rose of all the world. But evermore the halo Of Angel-light increased: That folds some fairy feast. Our darling bud up-curled, And dropt i' the Grave- God's lap - our wee White Rose of all the world. Our Rose was but in blossom; With holy dews impearled;' And in their hands they bore our wee You scarce could think so small a thing Her little light such shadow fling, From dawn to sunset's marge. In other springs our life may be Our leaves are shaken from the tree, That after our Spring-nurslings, we The warm love-nest our little Doves leave As they for us at heart would grieve In heaven - alone! The tender Shepherd beckoningly Our Lambs doth hold, That we may take our own when He THE DEATH OF THE FIRST-BORN. ALARIC A. WATTS. THE late Sir Robert Peel sent the following note to the accomplished author: "It is not from mere courtesy that I assure you that your name is respected by me. I have had the satisfaction of reading many of your poems. I particularly call to mind two, - 'The Death of the First-Born,' and 'My Own FireSide;' to have written which would be an honorable distinction to any one." My sweet one! my sweet one! the tears were in my eyes When first I clasped thee to my heart, and heard thy feeble cries; For I thought of all that I had borne, as I bent me down to kiss Thy cherry lips, and sunny brow, my first-born bud of bliss! |