It chanced that these men, in their passing away
From earth and its conflicts, all died the same day.
John was mourned through the length and the breadth of the land—
Peter fell ’neath the lash in a merciless hand—
Robert died with the praise of the Lord on his tongue—
While Paul was convicted of murder, and hung.
John, and Peter, and Robert, and Paul,
The purpose of life was fulfilled in them all.
Men said of the Statesman—“How noble and brave!”
But of Peter, alas!—“he was only a Slave.”
Of Robert—“’Tis well with his soul—it is well;”
While Paul they consigned to the torments of hell.
Born by one law through all Nature the same,
What made them differ? and who was to blame?
John, and Peter, and Robert, and Paul,
God in his wisdom created them all.
Out in that region of infinite light,
Where the soul of the black man is pure as the white—
Out where the spirit, through sorrow made wise,
No longer resorts to deception and lies—
Out where the flesh can no longer control
The freedom and faith of the God-given soul—
Who shall determine what change may befall
John, and Peter, and Robert, and Paul?
John may in wisdom and goodness increase—
Peter rejoice in an infinite peace—
Robert may learn that the truths of the Lord
Are more in the spirit, and less in the word—
And Paul may be blest with a holier birth
Than the passions of man had allowed him on earth.
John, and Peter, and Robert, and Paul,
God in his wisdom will care for them all.
LET THY KINGDOM COME.
The peaceful night, “the stilly night,”
Came down on wings of purple gloom,
And with her eyes of starry light,
Looked through the darkness of my room;
Peace was the pillow for my head,
While angels watched around my bed.
Freed from a weight of cumbering care,
My earnest spirit seemed to rise,
And on the wings of faith and prayer,
I sought the gates of Paradise;
Like priceless pearls I saw them gleam,
As in the Revelator’s dream.
O, holy, holy was the song
Of blessed spirits echoing thence,
So soft and clear it swept along,
It ravished all my soul and sense;
Close to those gates of light I crept,
And like a homeless orphan wept.
The white-robed angels went and came—
The white-robed angels saw me there—
And one, in our dear Father’s name,
Came at my spirit’s voiceless prayer.
“Dear child,” he said, “why dost thou wait
With weeping at the heavenly gate?”