But thou wert wedded to thy valiant dead,
And to the service of a Christ-like love;
So by thy hand the suffering poor were led,
And from thy bounty were the hungry fed,
Till came thy summons to the Court Above.
Now hast thou passed from tears and pain away,
Thine ear hath caught the heavenly melodies;—
So be it mine, with reverent touch, to-day,
On thy fair head this diadem to lay,
And crown thee Queen immortal for the skies!
[WHO IS SUFFICIENT?]
Six-and-thirty little mortals
Coming to be taught;
And mine that most "delightful task
To rear the tender thought."
Merry, mischief-loving children,
Thoughtless, glad and gay,
Loving lessons—"just a little,"
Dearly loving play.
Six-and-thirty souls immortal,
Coming to be fed;
Needing "food convenient for them,"
As their daily bread.
Bright and happy little children,
Innocent and free,
Coming here their life-long lessons
Now to learn of me.
Listen to the toilsome routine,
List, and answer them,
For these things who is sufficient
'Mong the sons of men?
Now they, at the well-known summons,
Cease their busy hum;
And, some with pleasure, some reluctant,
To the school-room come.
Comes a cunning little urchin
With defiant eye,
"Making music" with his marbles
As he passes by.
But, alas! the pretty toys are
Taken from him soon,
And the music-loving Willie
Strikes another tune!
Comes a lisping little beauty,
Scarce five summers old;
Baby voice and blue eyes pleading,
"Please, misth, I'm stho cold!"
Little one, the world is chilly,
All too cold for thee;
From its storms "Our Father" shield thee,
And thy refuge be.