Poems (Edwards)/The Missionary's Bride
THE MISSIONARY'S BRIDE.
Her's was a high devotion,—That fair girl.In the fresh hour of youth forsaking allThe friends who blessed her childhood—all the scenesTo her so long familiar—leaving allThe looks and smiles and voices she had lovedWith all a young heart's fervor, she went forthAmong the thankless heathen, with one heart,One heart alone—to love her, and one handTo shield her in affliction.It was morn:The sun had risen brightly, and the skiesLooked down serenely on the bright green earthThat lay beneath it smiling. In a cot,Half hid in vines and clustering eglantines,And opening roses, and sweet jessamine flowers,A bride and bridegroom lingered as if boundBy some enchantment to the hallowed spot— So loved from early childhood. There were allThe friends whom they had cherished, all the heartsThat had been clustering round them with a loveUndying in its nature. And the hour,The solemn hour of parting was to themAn age of speechless sorrow. One by oneThey gathered round them, whispering farewellFrom lips that shook with anguish. And the bride,That fair young creature, going forth abroadUpon life's trustless ocean, stood amidThat sorrowing group in silence. Not a tearStole from her downcast eye-lids. Not a sighCame from her swelling bosom. Brothers all,And friends, and sisters—all had said farewell!And she had felt their hot tears on her cheek,—And yet she wept not. Her's was the still griefThat scorneth to be uttered. She had breathedFarewell to all, save one, and that last oneWas a devoted mother. She had watchedAround her gentle being, like the sunThat warms to life the flowerets, and her lifeWas linked with her existence. All their hopes And joys had been commingled, till their heartsSeemed melted into one. But she was strong—Strong in the Rock of ages. With a smileOf high and pure affection she bent downAnd pressed her pale lips to the throbbing browOf her fair child. "Go thou, my treasure, go,"The mother softly whispered, "I have prayedFor strength to bear this parting. Be thou strongAnd bear the cross with patience. I shall missThe mirthful music of thy silvery voice,And thy clear laugh, my Daughter, and thy smileSo like a cheerful sunbeam in my home.And thy light step, my Fair one, will no moreBe heard in my still chamber. But that GodWho gave thee to my keeping—He who callsThee onward to thy work—Yes, He will beCompanion to thy mother."—It was done,The parting hour was over, and the Bride,With her high-placed affections, left her home—The glad home of her childhood.