The man of men!—'twas so I thought
Just fifty years ago,
When you and I joined hands for life;
And yet, I did not know
Half—half as well as I do now,
How dear you were that day;
And ever dearer still you've grown
As years have rolled away!
And still this fiftieth wedding-day
I have thee by my side—
An old man, weary, bent, and grey,
My tall tree tempest tried.
And yet I do aver that thou
Art fairer in my sight,
As in thy face I gaze just now,
Than on our wedding night!
And husband—oh, the best of all,
We'll soon be young again,
And free to tread with buoyant feet
A brighter, holier plain;—
We'll soon have done with pain and age,
And weariness and strife,
Soon end our earthly pilgrimage
In new, exultant life.
For you and I, dear, have a home—
A mansion of our own—
Where change and blight can never come,
And sorrow is unknown;
And soon we're going to enter in,
And with our Lord sit down,—
Heirs of His glory and His bliss,
His kingdom and His crown!
Many we love have thither gone,
And soon we'll be there too,—
And, children, you will follow on,
We shall look out for you
Oh, may we, in that blessed throng
Of saved ones robed in white,
Not miss a single dear loved face
That smiles on ours to night!
Just fifty years of wedded life
In the dear past I see,
Before us spreads—not fifty years—
But all Eternity
And while, 'mid ever deepening bliss,
The tranquil ages glide,
Still, hand in hand and heart in heart,
With Christ we shall abide!
THE EARTH VOICE AND ITS ANSWER
I plucked a fair flower that grew
In the shadow of summer's green trees—
A rose petalled flower,
Of all in the bower,
Best beloved of the bee and the breeze
I plucked it, and kissed it, and called it my own—
This beautiful, beautiful flower
That alone in the cool, tender shadow had grown,
Fairest and first in the bower
Then a murmur I heard at my feet—
A pensive and sorrowful sound,
And I stooped me to hear,
While tear after tear
Rained down from my eyes to the ground,
As I, listening, heard
This sorrowful word,
So breathing of anguish profound:—
"I have gathered the fairest and best,
I have gathered the rarest and sweetest,
My life-blood I've given
As an off'ring to Heaven
In this flower, of all flowers the completest
Through the long, quiet night,
With the pale stars in sight,—
Through the sun-lighted day
Of the balm-breathing May,
I have toiled on, in silence, to bring
To perfection this beautiful flower,
The pride of the blossoming bower—
The queenliest blossom of spring.