Mother, mourning for thy child.
Let thy heart be reconciled;
Saints redeemed, and spirits blest,
Call thy lost one into rest.
Hark! upon the air along
Melts a low melodious song,
Blending its diviner sound
With the tones which float around
On the perfumed atmosphere,
Heard not by the common ear.
Now it trembles o’er the blue,
Indistinctly shivering through,
Like the last notes, from afar,
Of a silver-strung guitar;
Now its chime is faintly heard,
Like the carols of a bird.
"Welcome! welcome to another,
From the world a ransomed brother,
Plucked before the frost of wo
Laid his budding beauties low,
Or the stain of earthly crime
Marred the guileless spirit's prime;
Called away to be at rest
On the dear Redeemer's breast.
"Welcome from a world of sin,
Little Brother, welcome in,
Where the loving and the pure
And the holy will endure;
And the ransomed of the earth —
Children of the better birth —
From the withered son of old,
To the babe in swaddlings rolled —
Stir the Heaven's serenest calm,
With a rapture-breathing psalm.
"Rosy children, many a score,
Who have bless'd the world before,
Cheering, with their heavenly smile,
Mother-hearts a little while,
Here they join in radiant bands,
Here they clap their infant hands,
And their songs of simple praise
To the blessed Jesus raise,
Who of old unto his breast
Meekly folded them and bless'd.
Come and join them little Brother;
Linking hands with one another,
Come, and as you bound along,
Sing aloud the holy song —
Sung by all the hosts above —
Praises of Redeeming Love.
“Come unto the arms of Him
In whose light the sun is dim;
He was once a little child,
Human, and yet undefiled;
Long ago he went to bless
Yonder world of wretchedness,
Of whose darkness, sin and wo,
It has not been thine to know:
There he bore the load of life
With its stem and earnest strife,
Teaching man the loving faith
Which will blunt the sting of death;
There He lived, and there He died,
Hunted, scourged and crucified,
That a stubborn world might bow
And become like such as thou.
"Come and meet thy elder Brother,
Him like whom there is no other;
He will make thy lips to know
Where the purest waters flow,
And the sweetest fruits divine
In their golden clusters shine;
Guide thy wandering feet and eyes,
Down the vales of Paradise,
Where the richest meadows bloom —
Hushed beneath their own perfume, —
And the Sabbath air is fanned
By the holiest cherub-band.
He will teach thy infant tongue
How to hymn the eternal song,
And within His loving heart
Fold thee, never to depart.
"Come" — but oh the blessed tone
Of the Spirit-choir is gone!
And the vision melts away,
Like the beams of dying day.
Yet its holy light hath given
To the soul a hue of heaven,
As the sunset, on its track,
Flings a cloud of glory back;
And the song's melodious chime
Cheers the heavy heart of time,
From a world of varied bliss
Faintly echoing in this.
Let the stricken Spirit now
With its grief no longer bow;
But, in newer, purer faith,
Mount triumphant over death,
And the fear which palls the tomb
In the sable garb of gloom;
So on earth there shall be given
Glimpses of the upper Heaven,
And a Life which prophesies
Of the Eternal Paradise
Where the dear, departed boy,
Sweetly hymns a Hymn of Joy.
Hymns for a Mother
First-Born, The
