THE LATE REV. J. ROOM, M.A.
John Room! he is dead and is buried;
There is mourning the whole village through,
And all the people who knew him
Are loth to bid him adieu.
’Tis true he was filled with compassion;
God’s nature in him over-flowed;
He knew all the people with burdens,
And strove hard to lighten their load.
His dress it were plain and quite common,
No pride in him could you trace;
Yet you knew that he was a good parson
Whenever you looked in his face.
The worst things his foes knew about him—
He was fond of satire or joke,
Writing some verses of rhythm,
Which always amused the folk.
Whene’er he walked into the pulpit,
He bowed for a moment in prayer,
Every soul in the temple grew thirsty;—
The true Christian spirit was there.
His likes there are few in the nation,
(I wish in my heart there were more;
For it wants something else besides learning,
To grapple the hearts of the poor.)
’Tis true he was high up in learning
The secrets of nations long dead;
But he cared more for those who were yearning
Sad tears round the sufferer’s bed.
Then farewell! my worthy old preacher,
For thou shall have no end of praise—
Good father and true-hearted shepherd,
Who knew both the poor and their ways.