I wrapt the blanket round her safe and warm ; But when I took her in my arms, it went Unto The clover-field, and showed her everything; And the last day, the morning that she died, She was as usual reading in the book Which had been given her when she quitted school; Ah! Sir, I have forgotten most of what That I had died when I was of your age, But I was saying that the day she died She had been reading for some little time, And then complained her eyes were growing dim, And bade me wipe them. I was just then sweeping The hearth, and had made up our little fire ; And presently she gave me back the book : In the hand-basket. There was no one else years. And presently I spoke to her again, And now she made no answer-only stretched Her hand out to me. I took hold of it, But in a moment let it go again, And lighting the twelve tapers held them there- And as the last of them was going out She breathed at the same moment her last breath. And she is gone, Sir,-but what matter now, What matter? She was but a little child, Yet Nature cannot choose but sometimes grieve, And must have way: why had it only been A stranger's child I had been rearing thus, And tending for now nearly fourteen years, My heart would needs be sad to let her go. But my own child, my darling Honoreen,Though when I think on all things, I believe, That I am glad He took her to Himself; It may be I shall follow before long, For I am a poor weak creature that have seen Much toil and trouble. Blessed be His Name That took her first: if I had gone the first, And left her a poor cripple in the world, No doubt they would have all been kind to her; But who is like a mother?-even if they Had wished it most, they never could have done They buried her Down in the valley in the old churchyard, Wind down the field, I turned and shut the door, And sitting on a stool I hid my face; I know not what it was came over me, But I grew giddy, and fell down, and struck And now I thank you. Many a journey long You took through wet and cold to see my child, And she found much of comfort in your words; And at the last I think was better pleased To go than stay. Then why should I so grieve? And why should I not rather feel and say, 'Twas the best nursing that I ever did, To nurse her and to bring her up for Him, Who called her to the knowledge of Himself, Then took her out of this poor sinful world?" Trench. EVENING HYMN. To the sound of evening bells Beasts unto their forest lairs. All things wear an home-bound look, 'Tis the time with power to bring To the sailor wandering On the far-off barren foam. What a still and holy time! |