The Emigrant Mechanic and Other Tales in Verse Part 19

"For when she prays aloud for you, Her tears they flow apace, And deepest crimson doth suffuse Her ever lovely face.

She says that she must leave us all Before 'tis very long, To go to yonder Heaven above, And join in Angel's song.

"And when she looks at our dear babe Her tears flow forth again; Yet never does she, father dear, In words of you complain, But says that she will try to make A happy home for you.

Come ill, come well, whate'er betide, She'll loving be and true.

"O, father, hasten with me, then, Before my mother die!

When I left home, your charming boy Most piteously did cry; It would have moved a heart of stone To see the tears he shed; His shrieks make worse the dreadful pain In mother's throbbing head!"

The drunkard stood in solemn mood, In riveted attention.

This strong appeal did make him feel Most serious apprehension.

He took the hand of maiden bland, And hastened fast away; Nor turned his face on that dread place Which had made him its prey.

They reached the house where that dear spouse Was breathing out her soul.

From sense of sin he rushes in, Nor could himself control.

Upon his knees in agonies He cries aloud, "My wife, Do speak to me, for I will be A husband, dear, through life!"

No voice there came; the vital flame Had fled, of child and mother.

He could not stay, so turned away, With look that made me shudder.

That little girl with hair in curl At last to him doth speak: "My father dear, your heart I'll cheer, And blessings for you seek.

"How We must pray, she taught the way Who now has gone to bliss.

Nor would I be the least degree In duty found remiss."

Her artless strain made him refrain From purposes most foul.

In after years she calmed his fears, And saved at last his soul.

To the Children in Mrs. Day's School.

1853.

My dearest children, do you know That best of all things here below, And knowing, you should always show To one another Which when received doth warm the breast, To troubled souls imparts sweet rest, And makes each near connection blest-- Of friend or brother.

This precious thing has power to melt Man's stubborn heart, as I have felt, Subdue all sins that ever dwelt In men benighted.

If o'er this world 'twere shed abroad, The soldier soon might sheathe his sword, And G.o.d alone would be adored, And all things righted.

What is this thing of which I speak?

It can be found by those who seek, With willing mind and spirit meek, Intent on finding.

It has its origin above, More beauteous is than any dove; Those who have felt it know 'tis Love, And well worth minding.

Where was this love most clearly seen My children you can tell, I ween.

The truth both old and young may glean From Scripture's pages.

For there we read that Jesus came To suffer death, endure the shame, That he might free us from all blame, Throughout all ages.

SONG TO BRANTFORD.

1854.

_Air_--"AULD LANG SYNE."

Thou lovely town in which I dwell, My own adopted place, In verse I would most gladly tell The pleasures which I trace,

As back I look through all the years Which o'er my head have pa.s.sed, Since I began, with many fears, My hopes on thee to cast.

For that support which, under G.o.d, I have from thee obtained.

Now through life's journey I would plod, With grat.i.tude unfeigned.

When I at first began my trade, I was not worth a cent.

That small commencement then I made With money to me lent

By one whose name I fain would tell, If he would give consent.

On love like this I'll fondly dwell, Till my poor life be spent.

His kindness set me first afloat In business and its cares, And thy inhabitants have bought My humble, shining wares.

So that my needs have been supplied, And a most ample share Of true home sweets I have enjoyed, Such as are far too rare.

But yet I have had sorrows too, Sent by my Father kind, To make me think, and say and do All he in love designed.

And now I candidly declare, I would not if I could, Have altered my sweet bill of fare, It has been all so good.

Our eight dear children growing up, My wife and I behold, And quaff such, pleasures from life's cup As none can get from gold.

And whence does such pure pleasure come?

I answer, from the Lord.

His presence cheers our humble home, And we can well afford

To praise and glorify His name, While we do here remain; And be content to suffer shame, If but the Crown we gain.

TO ELIHU BURRITT AFTER LISTENING TO HIS LECTURE ON "COMMERCE,"

DEC. 26, 1857.

[Footnote: It affords me much pleasure to be able to say that after presenting these verses to Mr. Burritt he was kind enough to call on me at my house, and expressed himself pleased with them.]

DEAR SIR:--

Pray deem it not presumptious in me To give expression thus to what I felt Last night, while listening to the poetry In your discourse, as you on Commerce dwelt.