The Mother Summoned

"The feast of life is sweet,I am no weary guest,Loving friends my presence greet,And all that charms the eye or ear,Taste to please, or heart to cheer,Earth, sky, and ocean gather here—God's care be blest.

'Tis scarce the hour of prime,But how the sands of TimeSteal fast away!Yet till cool evening fallsWith lamplight on the walls—I fain would stay.

If this be long and late,Oh Thou! who mark'st our date,Till twilight's rayI'd love to linger here,Guiding my children dearTheir pilgrim-way;

Watching their minds unfold,Rich with unrusting goldOf knowledge stored,Till each his manly seatShall take, in concord sweet,Around life's board."

The Master call'd! the mother heard:"Come hither!" was the solemn word.Bright shone the noonday sun,The undrain'd cup still glow'd with sparkling zest,She clasp'd her pure hands o'er her breast,"Thy will be done."

In the fresh summer of her yearsShe kiss'd away her nursling's tears,And laid him, lull'd to quiet rest,Upon her blooming daughter's breast.

Pain probed her nerves to Torture's pang,The fibrous heart-strings rent and rang,Yet peace, that of her soul was part,Look'd through her eye, and foil'd the dartThat rankled there,And Faith the Saviour's image drew,Wiping away the deathful dewWith words of prayer.

On a high arm and strong,Her soul its burden cast,While soaring, soaring high,The weakness of mortalityFell like a dried leaf on the blast,And with a conqueror's songHeaven's gate she pass'd.