TO MY HUSBAND’S PICTURE.
When I can steal a moment alone,
I gaze on thine image, my sainted one!
And turn away with a heavy heart,
For, O, my love! we are far apart;
Thou art in Heaven, and I below,
A mourning widow, in weeds of woe.
I teach my heart to rejoice for thee,
O, glorified spirit! for thou art free!
And though thou lovest me still, my dear!
I know thou would’st rather not be here;
Thou knowest that God will take care of me,
And bring me soon to Heaven and thee!
Perhaps thou art hovering o’er me now,
And watching me better than when below;
Perhaps the delightful work is thine,
To keep thy vigils o’er me and mine;
To soothe my sorrows and dry my tears,
T’ encourage my hopes and quell my fears.
Yes—I will fancy that thou art near,
And whisperest often in my ear,
And believe that thou comest not alone,
But bringest with thee our angel son;
O, my darlings! is it not sweet,
Though in different worlds, in spirit to meet?
Do ye not know that I can say,
Strength has been equal to my day?
Have ye not heard that my tearful eye
Oft glances upward in ecstasy,
And feasts on visions of future joy,
With thee, my husband, and thee, my boy?
Ye have seen what here I cannot see,
The stores of mercy laid up for me;
Ye have known what here I cannot know,
Why our Father has laid me low;
The wonderful secrets of infinite love
Are only known in the world above.
Then, sainted husband! I’ll surely try
Rejoicing to live as well as die;
Thou wert always grieved to see me sad,
And ever pleased when my heart was glad;
But may I not shed one tender tear,
When I gaze on thy picture alone, my dear?
Charleston, January 11, 1840.