40
poems.
THE MOTHER'S BEREAVEMENT.
My child, how can I give thee up?
How can I drink this bitter cup?
In thee I've centred all my joy—
My darling, precious, only boy.
How can I drink this bitter cup?
In thee I've centred all my joy—
My darling, precious, only boy.
How can I ever, ever kneel,
And pray for strength to say, and feel,
"Thy will, not mine, O Lord, be done,—
Thou only hast recalled thine own."
And pray for strength to say, and feel,
"Thy will, not mine, O Lord, be done,—
Thou only hast recalled thine own."
But I will not murmur, though of him bereft;
I thank thee, my Father, for those thou hast left.
Though parted below, unite us above,
To praise thee, and bless thee, and rejoice in thy love.
I thank thee, my Father, for those thou hast left.
Though parted below, unite us above,
To praise thee, and bless thee, and rejoice in thy love.
