JOHN T. SWARTZ. John T. Swartz, a contributor to the Ladies' Repository, and to the Western Christian Advocate of Cincinnati, was born in Clark county, Indiana, September eleventh, 1833. His parents removed to Cincinnati in 1841, and John T. attended the public schools until he was prepared for the Woodward High School, from which he graduated in 1854. He was immediately engaged as a teacher in one of the dis- trict schools, and was thus employed, when seized with the disease which caused his death, March fifth, 1859. He was a young man of scholarly attainments and exemplary character, and had his life been spared would have made a name in our literature. THERE ARE NO TEARS IN HEAVEN. I MET a child ; his feet were bare ; His weak frame shivered with the cold; His youthful brow was knit by care. His flashing eye his sorrow told. Said I, " Poor boy, why weepest thou ?" He said, " My parents both are dead ; I have not where to lay my head ; O, I am lone and friendless now ! " Not friendless, child ; a Friend on high For you his precious blood has given ; Cheer up, and bid each tear be dry — "There are no tears in heaven." I saw a man in life's gay noon. Stand weeping o'er his young bride's bier ; "And must we part," he cried, "so soon!" As down his cheek there rolled a tear. "Heart-stricken one," said I, "weep not;" "Weep not!" in accents wild he cried, " But yesterday my loved one died. And shall she be so soon forgot?" Forgotten? No! still let her love Sustain thy heart, with anguish riven ; Strive thou to meet thy bride above. And dry your tears in heaven. I saw a gentle mother weep. As to her throbbing heart she press'd An infant, seemingly asleep, On its kind mother's shelt'ring breast. "Fair one," said I, "pray, weep no more ; " Sobbed she, " The idol of my hope I now am called to render up ; My babe has reached death's gloomy shore." Young mother, yield no more to grief, Nor be by passion's tempest driven, But find in these sweet words relief, "There are no tears in heaven." Poor trav'ler o'er life's troubled wave — Cast down by grief, o'erwkelmed by care- There is an arm above can save. Then yield not thou to fell despair. Look upward, mourners, look above ! What though the thunders echo loud ; The sun shines bright beyond the cloud ; Then trust in thy Redeemers love. Where'er thy lot in life be cast, Whate'er of toil or woe be given — Be firm — remember to the last, "There are no tears in heaven." ( 656 )
