Poems by Rebekah Smith Part 5

Be careful to follow where he leads the way; Let nothing entice from his footsteps to stray.

May he keep you from falling and lead you safe through To the home and the friends you are bidding adieu.

To Samuel.

Good morning, you said, as you left for your bride, For the one in whom you so truly confide.

Good morning, my son, Heaven's blessings attend, As you take a companion, a dear, chosen friend.

I'm happy in thinking you'll bring home a wife To take the direction in things of this life, May her interest and aim be all one with us here, And she be to mother a daughter most dear.

The sister, the daughter, and wife, all combine; The home of her childhood she too must resign.

Though former companions may not be forgot, New duties, new trials will fall to her lot.

Be true and affectionate, always the same; One in heart as you now are to be one in name, Wherever she is, be it your joy to come; While each can say truly, "There's no place like home."

You've doubtless informed her you intended your mother Would have a home with you, and also your brother, That she unexpectedly might not find these, To add to her household, to care for and please.

You've been an affectionate, dutiful son; Everything in your power, for my comfort you've done; You've said this attention you owed me through life-- Oh! I'd be a rich blessing to your and your wife.

Should I be a burden still greater to bear, The daughter and wife in the trial must share.

Think then of my age, over seventy years, And bear with me though I cause sorrow and tears.

Though fretful, impatient, not suited at all, And you think it best not to mind every call, Remember past seasons, my kindness, and know I would have you as blest as one could be below.

And in the new earth when all trials are o'er, I would be with you there to have life evermore.

An unbroken band may we all there appear, The father, the mother, the children so dear.

We should there know each other, and all we've been through, While Annie would greet her dear brothers anew And Harriet and Frances[2] would help swell the song, Of Heaven's free grace, with the numerous throng.

My dearest Samuel, through life's scenes I'd thought to live with thee, But providentially a change, Has taken you from me; Dear child you need not fear for me.

Those kind words, "Mother, live with me,"

As then are now the same; Unshaken is my confidence, That you are just the same, To-day, the very, very same.

Oh! how my heart goes after thee, My dear, loved, cherished son, Your father's name and image bear, As does no other one; I see the once-loved in my son.

I see thee oft in fancy's view, And love to see thee so; I'm happy that to your new home, I'm wholly free to go; My son to your home I can go.

It is my choice; I would be here, I love to be alone, I love this quiet solitude, I love the wild wind's moan; My child, I would be here alone.

Yet not alone, another son Is with me all the while.

Though frail in health, he cares for me, And greets me with a smile; He does my lonely hours beguile.

Another too, though far away, Away now at the West-- With three kind sons to care for me, Most signally I'm blest; Be Heaven our place of final rest.

The husband and the daughter sleep; Thus friends are parted here, But they in joy will live again, When Jesus shall appear, To dry each Christian mourner's tear.

_February, 1865._

[2]Daughters-in-law.

Lines

Written on the death of Annie R. Smith.

Let Annie sleep; her rest is with the dead; All sorrow past, her last sad tear is shed; Why call to mind the sufferings here she bore, When now with her they are forever o'er?

Why ope the wound--that wound so deeply given, When from the parent tree this branch was riven?

Oh! spare thy tears, wake not the fount of grief; No human power can aid or give relief.

She died in hope of living evermore With those she loved, when Time's last scene is o'er.

When Jesus comes, we trust there'll be a place Prepared for her with all the ransomed race.

Shall we then see her in immortal bloom, Risen triumphant from the silent tomb?

Shall we there meet her all in bright array, And spend in Heaven with her an endless day?

Shall we behold the glorious city fair, And by the King of kings be welcomed there?

To eat with her the fruit of earth made new, And give to Jesus praise and glory due?

Oh, 'tis enough! Let earthly sorrow cease, While Jesus says in him we shall have peace.

That G.o.d in us may his designs fulfill, We'll meekly suffer all his holy will.

To My Mother.

BY ANNIE R. SMITH.

My lot has been to roam Far from the cheering light of home, Mid scenes of commotion, turmoil and strife, Temptation and snares that beset this life.

Oh! yonder I see a beacon light gleaming, O'er the dark wave its l.u.s.tre is beaming, Dear mother! as the light to the mariner lost, So thou to the bark on the billow tossed.

My lot has been to meet The bitter mixed with transient sweet; To struggle on, in toil and care, The tide of adverse fate to bear.

Oh! yonder I see a tender vine, twining Around a tree, its tendrils are s.h.i.+ning; Dear mother! as the vine twines around the tree, So from life's rude blasts I cling to thee.

My lot has been to feel Dark shadows o'er my spirit steal; From slanderous tongues, and envy's wiles, Deceit that lurked 'neath wreathing smiles.

Oh! yonder I see the floweret's hue; Reviving 'neath the pearly dew.

Dear mother! as the dew to the drooping flower, So thou to me in sorrow's dark hour.