No mother's eye beside thee wakes to-night

I.

N O mother's eye beside thee wakes to-night,
No taper burns beside thy lonely bed;
Darkling thou liest, hidden out of sight,
And none are near thee but the silent dead.

II.

How cheerly glows this hearth, yet glows in vain,
For we uncheered beside it sit alone,
And listen to the wild and beating rain
In angry gusts against our casement blown:

III.

And though wo nothing speak, yet well I know
That both our hearts are there, where thou dost keep
Within thy narrow chamber far below,
For the first time unwatched, thy lonely sleep:

IV.

Oh no, not thou!...and we our faith deny,
This thought allowing: thou, removed from harins,
In Abraham's bosom dost securely lie;
Oh! not in Abraham's, in a Savior's arms —

V.

In that dear Lord's, who, in thy worst distress,
Thy bitterest anguish, gave thee, dearest child,
Still to abide in perfect gentleness,
And like an angel to be meek and mild.

VI.

Sweet corn of wheat, committed to the ground
To die, and live, and bear more precious ear,
While in the heart of earth thy Savior found
His place of rest, for thee we will not fear.

VII.

Sleep softly, till that blessed rain and dew,
Down lighting upon earth, such change shall bring,
That all its fields of death shall laugh anew —
Yea, with a living harvest laugh and sing.
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