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Poem by Janet Hamilton


To William Logan


  On the Death of his aged Mother

Mourn not, my Christian friend:thy late removed,
Thy sainted mother, cherished and beloved,
In Jesus fell asleep.Oh sorrow not
As those who have no hope! Be ne'er forgot
The hand Divine, that to thy filial love
Consigned the sacred trust.God will approve
The watchful care, the tender, pious zeal,
The ceaseless ministrations to her weal
With which thou sought'st her helpless age to guard,
And pour into thy bosom rich reward
Yet oft thine eye will glance, thine ear will strain,
As if to see the form revered again;
As if once more the feeble voice to hear;
A mother's voice for ever true and dear.
The couch is empty, and the voice is gone;
Thou standest by her vacant chair alone:
Yet not alone, thy mother's God and thine
Sets in this cloud of tears the bow divine
The rainbow of His promise, fair and free;
According to thy day thy strength shall be.
And she, the partner of thy life and heart,
She who in all thy sorrows bears a part
And he, thy tender plant, thy duteous boy,
May both with thee through lengthened years enjoy
The tranquil bliss of calm domestic love,
And blest re-union in the home above!



Janet Hamilton


Janet Hamilton's other poems:
  1. The Civil War in America
  2. Some Incidents in the Latter Days of John Whitelaw
  3. Lines on the Trial of Madeline Smith for the Murder of L'Angelier
  4. The Mourning Mother
  5. Night Phases of Drunkenness


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