298
THE OLD FAMILY.
And strangers now live at the Hall, oh! sad to us and strange
It seems, to see their places filled, when hearts have known no change;
Strange voices sounding in our ears, strange faces in the pew,
When Sunday found the fairest ones, the dearest that we knew.
It seems, to see their places filled, when hearts have known no change;
Strange voices sounding in our ears, strange faces in the pew,
When Sunday found the fairest ones, the dearest that we knew.
Yet it were evil to complain, the new may be the kind,
But can they be to us like Them—to whom each heart and mind
Was like a book before them spread, where they might read at will,
And 'mid our errors trace their names, the loved and honoured still.
But can they be to us like Them—to whom each heart and mind
Was like a book before them spread, where they might read at will,
And 'mid our errors trace their names, the loved and honoured still.
We feel it still, though from us gone, the smile that was our praise,
The eye that mourned to see our steps withdraw from virtue's ways;
The patient words, the gentle deeds, that strove to lead us on
In paths of pleasantness and peace, they have not surely gone!
The eye that mourned to see our steps withdraw from virtue's ways;
The patient words, the gentle deeds, that strove to lead us on
In paths of pleasantness and peace, they have not surely gone!
We think of Them, that if they come once more to the old place,
Our looks may answer theirs, nor fear to meet them face to face;
Our looks may answer theirs, nor fear to meet them face to face;
