For that thy heart had now been taught Should ache as it hath ached of yore: And 'twas a dear delight to me To hope that, as Life's daylight wore, Thy sky grew clear, and I should see Thy sun, without a cloud, go down rejoicingly. III. I hoped for years serene and calm, Should dwell near thy beloved side, And how thy earlier faith was tried, And how thy soul had been through suffering sanctified. IV. I knew that in thy bosom dwelt By spirits to their God most dear; Which yet thou felt'st, from year to year, And many a secret sigh and tear Heaved thy sad heart, thine eyes did fill, And anxious thoughts thou hadst presaging direstill. V. My prayers (ah! why so cold and few?) Through dreams of sorrow which might be, VI. And now thou bleed'st beneath the blow- Nor streams of light celestial call To burst the gloom which clouds the eye E'en of thy faith, and wraps Heaven's self in mystery. VII. I cannot—nor, alas! canst thou, Deliverance from heart-crushing woes; Yet mayst thou to His bosom flee, And in his long-tried love thy perfect trust repose. VIII. Thou dost-ah! well I know thou dost I know thy heart was all in heaven, To earth and earth's delusions lost, To God and Christ completely given, Ere yet by this last stroke 'twas riven: Long hast thou dwelt with us on earth, A spirit purged from earthly leaven, Still sharing all our grief and mirth, Half angel though thou art, God's child by second birth. IX. Thy pangs, which now pierce soul and sense, And final bliss to thine and thee Aught that could mar in Heaven thy full felicity. X. In Heaven?-and must I think of Earth? And yet-shame on my selfish fearsShame that such fears I should avowWhy grieve to think thy mortal years Were number'd, thy work done in this our world of tears? XI. I will not-yet I must-I must; And all our loving talk, our pleasant days be o'er? I XII. may not think on griefs like these; Yet, yet, beloved friend, remain ; If earthly love hath power to ease Nor haply minister in vain, Whate'er of tenderest aid may be, Whate'er of comfort yet in all love's treasury. XIII. Stay with us till our hearts are strong; Till we can gaze, with steadier eye, Stay till we too are fit to die, Christ's messenger to us and ours; O'er lust and sin's rebellious powers, And lead our steps with thine to Heaven's unfading bowers. Dec. 3, 1835. TO MARION. I. THANKS, Marion, for thy sojourn brief In this our English home; But joy for years to come; Beyond the ocean foam, Wilt leave on mine and Margaret's heart II. To her, or ere thy face we knew, But fancy's touch hath slender skill Of the unseen we pant to see, |