Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/The Last Farewell

The Last Farewell.

Come, my brother, nearer, nearer,
 For my limbs are growing cold;
And thy presence seemeth dearer
 When thy arms around me fold.
I am dying, brother, dying;
 Soon you'll miss me in your berth,
For my form will soon be lying
 'Neath the ocean's briny surf.

Hearken to me, brother, hearken,
 I have something I would say,
Ere the veil my vision darken,
 And I go from hence away:
I am going, surely going;—
 But my hope in God is strong;
I am willing, brother, knowing
 That He doeth nothing wrong.

Tell my father, when you greet him,
 That in death I prayed for him;
Prayed that I might one day meet him
 In a world that's free from sin.
Tell my mother—(God assist her,
 Now that she is growing old)—
Say her child would glad have kissed her
 Where his lips grew pale and cold.

Listen, brother, catch each whisper,
 'Tis my wife I'd speak of now:
Tell, oh tell her, how I missed her
 When the fever burned my brow!
Tell her, brother—(closely listen,
 Don't forget a single word)—
That in death my eyes did glisten
 With the tears her memory stirred.

Tell her she must kiss my children,
 Like the kiss I last impressed;
Hold them as when last I held them,
 Folded closely to my breast:
Give them early to their Maker,
 Putting all their trust in God;
And He never will forsake her,
 For He's said so in His Word.

O my children I Heaven bless them,
 They were all my life to me;
Would I could once more caress them,
 Ere I sink beneath the sea!
'Twas for them I crossed the ocean—
 What my hopes were I'll not tell;
But I've gained the better position;
 For He doeth all things well.

Tell my sisters I remember
 Every kindly parting word;
And my heart has been kept tender
 By the thoughts their memory stirred.
Tell them I ne'er reached the haven
 Where I sought the precious dust;
But I have got that better land,
 Where the gold will never rust.

Urge them to secure an entrance
 For they'll find their brother there;
Faith in Jesus, and repentance,
 Will secure for each a share.
Hark! I hear my Saviour speaking—
 'Tis His voice, I know it well,
When I am gone, oh! don't be weeping—
 Brother, here's my last farewell.