II. TO MY OLD FRIEND, R. KING PEIRCE, Esq., ON THE DEATH OF HIS INFANT CHILD. M OURN not for him, whom in life's earliest hour The hand of Death has beckoned to his rest; Mourn not for him; the unexpanded flower Thy newborn child is sleeping in the grave Ere Earth's rough hand could coarsely brush away It was not his to hoist the dangerous sail, Grief had not time its iron lines to trace, Or mortal care to vex his tender soul; And the young spirit burst from earth's control. All minds require the discipline of grief, 'Tis not within the scope of mortal brain God's varied dealings to explain aright, His methods with His children oft are plain, Although earth's government be veiled in night. The overhanging canopy of ill Will pass and leave no blighting trace behind, And clouds will yield before Time's cleaving wind. The scalding tears will rise, the thoughts will burn, That the great Chast'ner deals no needless blow. Although Bereavement is a deep, dark well, ADVENT HYMN, No. 1. REAT God, who know'st, and none beside, Or if yon pall of vapours dense, That shroud his dim magnificence, Adorn him for the tomb. Make each one's earthly burthened ear Th' Archangel's thrilling warning; To gladly hail across the sky That unsunlighted dawning. Anon we seem to feel Thee nigh, Steadies the onward gaze; Anon, as eagerly we strain, Those joyous Advent visions wane In Unbelief's dull haze. Let us then ofttimes scale the height Of Revelation, where the sight Of Truth will be most clear; On that high mount Saint John of old Was granted gazing to behold Scenes of the far-off sphere. Lord, give me strength to do thy will, Though many be the years of ill Unwearied as the sun; That when in death I soar to Thee, Or Thou in glory come to me, Thy work may be well done! LI ADVENT HYMN, No. 2. ROW long, O Lord of love, how long How oft shall the bright line of light We deemed would make the next hour bright In deeper darkness merge? How oft shall this life's song outburst So hopefully and bright at first, So full of merry glee Change as it carols on its way To far more sad and halting lay, And end in minor key? How long shall mounted Cruelty While the insatiate sea of Death |