Somehow the letters that we get
Don’t seem to come from him,
And often when I’ve read them through
My poor old eyes are dim,
He talks too much of worldly things—
My Jack was never proud,
Of wealth and fame, and power to win,
And going with the crowd.
So write out clear, and let it read,
To Jack, away from home,
Old Grannie says, get ready
For the Kingdom come.
You think his birthday calls for more
Than one poor little line,
Nay, there are those who love him less
To make him wishes fine;
My words go from a faithful heart,
They’re true, and they are warm,
There’s loving wisdom in them, too,
To keep my boy from home.
So write out clear, and let it read,
To Jack, away from home,
Old Grannie says, get ready
For the Kingdom come.
I’d like to see him as he reads,
His blue eyes brimming o’er,
And good thoughts rising white and strong
To be forgot no more;
Heaven will be nearer to his heart
Than it has been for years,
For he will read in these few words
My love, my hope, my prayers.
So write it clear, and let it read,
To Jack, away from home,
Old Grannie says, get ready
For the Kingdom come.
The Ever and Ever so Long Ago
O, life has its seasons joyous and drear,
Its summer’s bloom, and its frost and snow,
But the fairest of all, I tell you, dear,
Was the sweet old spring of the long ago—
The ever and ever so long ago!