He came into this world of care,
A precious gift from Heaven;
And on his brow, so passing fair,
A holy kiss was given,
As, cradled in his mother’s arms,
The smiling cherub lay;
While gazed the father on his charms,
Pure as the opening day.
In after months, too tenderly
They watch’d his gambols wild;
Ah! did they know how tenderly
They held their darling child?
A few short hours, and O, the change
Their sadden’d spirits feel!
The tear—the sigh—the gloom; how strange!
Who can the cause reveal?
Ah! look around—the mother’s arms
No precious burden hold;
The father’s heart no longer warms
With ecstasy untold,
As when his playful infant boy,
With outstretch’d, dancing hands,
In baby language spoke his joy,
Or utter’d his commands.
Yes, look around! in that still place
A lovely infant lies,
A parting smile upon his face,
The smile of sweet surprise,
As burst upon his ravish’d ear
The music of the blest
In Heaven, when harps were tuning there
To welcome home the guest.
But hark! a softer, sweeter strain
Of infant harmony!
O, who would now to earth enchain
That spirit, pure and free?
Though icy cold the body lies
Enwrapt in death’s embrace,
To Jesus’ arms the spirit flies,
Burning to see his face.
CHARLESTON, May, 1834.