Church poetry : or, Christian thoughts in old and modern verse . t;Thy portion here was grief, thy yearsDistilld no other rain but tears,Tears without noise, but (understood)As loud and shrill as any blood ;Thou seemdst a Rosebud born in Snow,A flower of purpose sprung to bowTo headless tempests, and the rageOf an incensed, stormy age :Others, ere their afflictions grow,Are timed and seasoned for the blow, MEMORIALS. 307 But thine, as rhumes the tenderest part,Fell on a young and harmless yet as balm trees gently spendTheir tears for those that do them rend,So mild and pious thou wer
Church poetry : or, Christian thoughts in old and modern verse . t;Thy portion here was grief, thy yearsDistilld no other rain but tears,Tears without noise, but (understood)As loud and shrill as any blood ;Thou seemdst a Rosebud born in Snow,A flower of purpose sprung to bowTo headless tempests, and the rageOf an incensed, stormy age :Others, ere their afflictions grow,Are timed and seasoned for the blow, MEMORIALS. 307 But thine, as rhumes the tenderest part,Fell on a young and harmless yet as balm trees gently spendTheir tears for those that do them rend,So mild and pious thou wert seen,Though full of sufferings, free from spleen,Thou didst not murmur, nor revile,But drankst thy wormwood with a smile. As envious eyes blast and infect,And cause misfortunes by aspect,So thy sad stars dispensed to theeNo influence but calamity,They viewd thee with eclipsed rays,And but the backside of bright days. These were the comforts she had here,As by an unseen hand tis clear,Which now she reads, and smiling wearsA crown with Him who wipes off 308 MEMORIALS. OF MY DEAR SON GERVASE BEAUMONT. Sir J. Beaumont. Can I, who have for others oft compildThe songs of death, forget my sweetest child,Which, like a flower crushd with a blast, is dead,And ere full time, hangs down his smiling head,Expecting with clear hope to live anew,Among the angels fed with heavenly dew ?We have this sign of joy, that many days,While on the earth his struggling spirit stays,The name of Jesus in his mouth containsHis only food, his sleep, his ease from , may that sound be rooted in my mind,Of which in him such strong effect I Lord, receive my son, whose winning loveTo me was like a friendship, far aboveThe course of nature, or his tender age,Whose looks could all my bitter griefs assuage ;Let his pure soul, ordaind seven years to beIn that frail body, which was part of me,Remain my pledge in Heaven, as sent to show,How to this port at every step I go. MEMORIALS. 309 AN E
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1840, booksubjectreligio, bookyear1848
