Poems (Argent)/"Of such is the Kingdom of Heaven"
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"OF SUCH IS THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN."
A LITTLE grave, within "God's acre" sleeping,
Sheltered amid dark trees of waving yew,
Left in the hands of God's most holy keeping,
Smiled on by Heaven's eternal sky of blue.
Sheltered amid dark trees of waving yew,
Left in the hands of God's most holy keeping,
Smiled on by Heaven's eternal sky of blue.
A little grave! a child's grave, where in sorrow,
We laid her down amid our tears and pain,
And now we wait in patience for that morrow
When we shall clasp our loved and lost again.
We laid her down amid our tears and pain,
And now we wait in patience for that morrow
When we shall clasp our loved and lost again.
A little grave! beneath, our little daughter
Is dreaming sweetly of angelic bliss.
So fast she slumbers that we ne'er would wake her,
Or wish her back again in world like this.
Is dreaming sweetly of angelic bliss.
So fast she slumbers that we ne'er would wake her,
Or wish her back again in world like this.
No more within our threshold shall we see her;
Only the whisper of her spirit falls
Softly within our hearts where fast we hold her
Invisibly she dwells beneath our walls.
Only the whisper of her spirit falls
Softly within our hearts where fast we hold her
Invisibly she dwells beneath our walls.
There is her empty chair, where 'side her mother
She used to sit; and upstairs is the bed
Now slept in by a sister or a brother,
The self-same pillow where once laid her head.
She used to sit; and upstairs is the bed
Now slept in by a sister or a brother,
The self-same pillow where once laid her head.
A thousand sights recall her, and we listen
Half hoping, fearing, knowing 'tis in vain;
Bright unshed tears within our eyelids glisten,
For never more we'll hear her voice again.
Half hoping, fearing, knowing 'tis in vain;
Bright unshed tears within our eyelids glisten,
For never more we'll hear her voice again.
Our gaze upon the wall doth often wander,
For there her portrait meets our longing eyes,
And day by day our hearts for her grow fonder—
She still is ours, though fled beyond the skies.
For there her portrait meets our longing eyes,
And day by day our hearts for her grow fonder—
She still is ours, though fled beyond the skies.
Unspeakable our loss, untold our yearning;
Affection's chain is riven deep and wide,
For severed links our hearts within are burning
For vanished faces round the dear home side.
Affection's chain is riven deep and wide,
For severed links our hearts within are burning
For vanished faces round the dear home side.
Poor human hearts! for ever, ever clinging,
Though Death stands by with visage pale and grim,
O'er all our lives a sombre shadow flinging,
His iron grasp outstretched on every limb.
Though Death stands by with visage pale and grim,
O'er all our lives a sombre shadow flinging,
His iron grasp outstretched on every limb.
We make an idol, then the word is spoken
Out of the lips of the great God and just;
If nought we heed, our hearts must needs be broken,
Till they be humbled to the very dust.
Out of the lips of the great God and just;
If nought we heed, our hearts must needs be broken,
Till they be humbled to the very dust.
Sometimes at even we can catch the gleaming,
And hear the rustle of angelic wings;
It cannot be that we are only dreaming—
That sweet, sweet voice is surely hers that sings!
And hear the rustle of angelic wings;
It cannot be that we are only dreaming—
That sweet, sweet voice is surely hers that sings!
Across our lives she comes oft in a vision,
And oh! the wondrous peace, the untold rest,
To know that she is in the fields Elysian,
For ever loving, and for ever blest.
And oh! the wondrous peace, the untold rest,
To know that she is in the fields Elysian,
For ever loving, and for ever blest.
We cannot murmur, for she did but leave us,
To draw our steps as with a beacon light
To Heaven's gate, where God grant she may meet us—
Our angel child in dazzling robes of white.
To draw our steps as with a beacon light
To Heaven's gate, where God grant she may meet us—
Our angel child in dazzling robes of white.
A little grave, where, on the breezes blowing,
Are sound of bells that in the distance ring,
And meek-eyed daisies round its base are growing,
And withered flowers of love still o'er it cling.
Are sound of bells that in the distance ring,
And meek-eyed daisies round its base are growing,
And withered flowers of love still o'er it cling.
A calm bright spot, for there the waving grasses
Seem ever whisp'ring of our darling's life,
And to the mourner onward as he passes
Doth banish far away earth's care and strife.
Seem ever whisp'ring of our darling's life,
And to the mourner onward as he passes
Doth banish far away earth's care and strife.
Sleep, calmly sleep, our own dear little daughter;
It seems but yesterday beneath the sod,
In all humility and love, we brought her,
To give her back with many tears to God.
It seems but yesterday beneath the sod,
In all humility and love, we brought her,
To give her back with many tears to God.
Rest thee, awhile; around thee hearts are weeping,
And souls grow weary, for the way seems long,
Ere they too rest in God's most holy keeping,
And sing above His angels' deathless song.
And souls grow weary, for the way seems long,
Ere they too rest in God's most holy keeping,
And sing above His angels' deathless song.
"He giveth His beloved sleep," and slowly
Over the tired eyes and stricken breast,
Like summer dew, His peace falls pure and holy,
And lulls them gently to their long, last rest.
Over the tired eyes and stricken breast,
Like summer dew, His peace falls pure and holy,
And lulls them gently to their long, last rest.
A little grave! O spirits, bright and glorious,
Bear up to Heaven these little ones of ours;
Bear them to Christ, triumphant and victorious,
To bloom in Paradise 'mid fadeless flowers.
Bear up to Heaven these little ones of ours;
Bear them to Christ, triumphant and victorious,
To bloom in Paradise 'mid fadeless flowers.