Poems (Frances Elizabeth Browne)/To a young lady during sickness
TO A YOUNG LADY DURING SICKNESS.
My gentle Jane, accept a willing lay,
An honest tribute most sincerely penned;
No empty compliments I mean to pay,
But simply breathe the wishes of a friend.
An honest tribute most sincerely penned;
No empty compliments I mean to pay,
But simply breathe the wishes of a friend.
Perchance the Muse may prompt a serious strain,
As one best suited to a suffering hour;
But soon may'st thou both health and strength regain,
Nor feel the sad effects of sickness' power.
As one best suited to a suffering hour;
But soon may'st thou both health and strength regain,
Nor feel the sad effects of sickness' power.
Yet think, dear girl, while yet it pleases Him
(Who chastens whom he loves) your faith to try,
Who calls for clouds the youthful eye to dim,
That earth's vain scenes may pass dazzling by,—
(Who chastens whom he loves) your faith to try,
Who calls for clouds the youthful eye to dim,
That earth's vain scenes may pass dazzling by,—
Who summons pain, or sickness, or distress,
To show the emptiness of all below,
To teach fond man that he alone can bless,
That lasting peace from Heaven alone can flow,—
To show the emptiness of all below,
To teach fond man that he alone can bless,
That lasting peace from Heaven alone can flow,—
O, think of what makes even sickness blest,
Without which health and earth's best gifts are vain,
Which gives to life's true joys their purest zest,
And renders death itself eternal gain!
Without which health and earth's best gifts are vain,
Which gives to life's true joys their purest zest,
And renders death itself eternal gain!
I wish thee all which this world can supply,
I wish thee health, and happiness, and ease;
But all that 's bright must fade, that lives must die,—
Then, O dear Jane! I wish thee more than these.
I wish thee health, and happiness, and ease;
But all that 's bright must fade, that lives must die,—
Then, O dear Jane! I wish thee more than these.
I wish thee endless life beyond the tomb,
Pleasures that never fade, nor joys that fly;
Leaves for the healing of the nations[1] bloom
In that blest land, on trees that never die!
Pleasures that never fade, nor joys that fly;
Leaves for the healing of the nations[1] bloom
In that blest land, on trees that never die!
- ↑ "And in the midst of the city was there the tree of life, and the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations."—Rev. xxii. 2.