Poems (Edwards)/To a Mother on the Death of her Infant
LINES TO A MOTHER,ON THE DEATH OF HER INFANT.
Weep not, though Providence has snatched Thy lovely infant from thy breast;Before thy Father's throne it stands, Among the saints a welcome guest.
It scarce was folded to thy heart, With all a mother's pride and joy,Ere death appeared with blighting touch, Thy cherished idol to destroy.
But though it sleeps in death's cold arms, Its soul has fled beyond the grave;God called the spirit back to heaven, And took the fleeting breath He gave.
The death-pang rends no more its heart, Its spirit is unfettered now,The withering finger of decay, No more can blight its beauteous brow.
Another voice has joined the songs, That echo sweetly through the skies;Another form is gliding through The shining courts of Paradise.
And wouldst thou win thy child from thence, From those bright realms of endless day,To cast its heavenly garments by, And wear again a robe of clay?
Wouldst thou recall its ransomed soul, From that eternity of bliss,To live, to suffer, and to feel The sorrows of a world like this?
O! bear with resignation meek, The chastenings of thy Father's rod,Be joyful, for thou hast returned Thy child, an angel, back to God.
Weep not, though from thy stricken heart, The dearest, sweetest tie is riven,A bud has fallen from thy breast To bloom eternally in heaven.