Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TO F.M.G. ON HER BROTHER'S DEATH, by FRANCES RIDLEY HAVERGAL



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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

TO F.M.G. ON HER BROTHER'S DEATH, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Stay not the current of thy tears, for they
Last Line: He waits to welcome thee!
Subject(s): Death; Memory; Dead, The


STAY not the current of thy tears, for they
Must flow, and 'tis a sad relief to weep
For one who, having brightened long the way,
Now lies in death's long sleep.

A brother's love! I know it is a treasure
Which may by nothing earthly be replaced;
I know that this filled up the bounteous measure
Of joy which thou didst taste.

I know that sadness fills thy youthful heart
E'en to o'erflowing; and it well may seem
That nought to thee remaineth but the smart;
Of happiness no gleam.

And Jesus knows it. Oh, He did not call
Thy brother from his loving sister's side
Without remembering thee, thy sorrows all;
He knows the heart He tried.

But He would have thee turn thy weeping eye
To gaze on Him, who suffered all for thee,
That the effulgence every tear may dry
Which beams from Calvary.

All earthly love is as a thread of gold,
Most fair, but what the touch of death may sever:
But His a cable sure, of strength untold:
Oh! His love lasteth ever.

And this sweet love He would on thee bestow,
The fulness of His grace to thee make known,
A glimpse of heaven grant thee here below,
And thou shouldst be His own.

Thou wilt not sigh, if this one Pearl thou gain,
O'er earthly treasures, costly though they be.
Short is the night of weeping and of pain;
Endless the joy for thee!

Thy brother striketh now his harp of gold,
And singeth joyously his first 'new song;'
The echo of his melody hath rolled
The aisles of heaven along.

He weareth raiment white, which angel hands
From the full vestry of the Lamb have brought;
With palm and crown, before His throne he stands
Who him by blood hath bought.

Gladness unspeakable his soul doth fill,
He hath forgotten pain, and grief, and sorrow;
Eternal bliss hath dawned on him, he will
See no woe-bringing morrow.

He might have passed through many a weary year
Of sickness, trouble, or perplexity,
And as an autumn leaf, all brown and sere,
Been shaken from the tree;

He might have forfeited the heavenly prize,
Had he lived longer on the Tempter's ground:
Then gaze no longer where his body lies
Beneath the new formed mound.

Yes, look up from the scene of mourning, where
Nought but a dreary blank thine eyes can see:
Thou hast a brother now in heaven, and there
He waits to welcome thee!





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