| |
(U.S., 1895)
I SIT here thinking, Will, of you, | |
| Of merry days gone by— | |
| The old church, where oft we sang | |
| Together, you and I; | |
| But thoughts of one rehearsal night | 5 |
| Will constantly arise, | |
| Till “I can read my title clear | |
| To mansions in the skies.” | |
| |
| I’m thinking of the rainy night— | |
| The rest had hurried home— | 10 |
| And we, in Deacon Foster’s pew, | |
| Were sitting all alone; | |
| You were a “seeker” then, dear Will, | |
| But not of “things above”— | |
| “The length, the depth, the breadth, the heighth | 15 |
| Of everlasting love.” | |
| |
| And I was on the “anxious” seat, | |
| Uncertain how to move, | |
| Within thine arms of love embraced, | |
| Thy constancy to prove! | 20 |
| And oh! the promises you made— | |
| You were my own dear Will— | |
| “What peaceful hours I once enjoyed, | |
| How sweet their memory still.” | |
| |
| Oh! what sweet words of love you spoke, | 25 |
| And kissed away the tear; | |
| And how I trembled at the thought | |
| Lest someone should appear; | |
| But when you turned the lights all out, | |
| To guard against surprise, | 30 |
| “I bade farewell to every fear, | |
| And wiped my weeping eyes.” | |
| |
| I thought, could I these doubts remove, | |
| These gloomy doubts that rise, | |
| “And see the Caanan that we love | 35 |
| With unbeclouded eyes!” | |
| And as you climbed the pulpit stairs, | |
| And viewed the landscape o’er, | |
| “Not Jordan’s stream, not death’s cold flood | |
| Could fright us from the floor.” | 40 |
| |
| And when you fixed the cushions up, | |
| And I reclined at ease, | |
| The pulpit pillow ’neath my head, | |
| And you on bended knees; | |
| With your warm kisses on my lips, | 45 |
| How could I stay your hand; | |
| “The veil was lifted, and by faith, | |
| You viewed the promised land.” | |
| |
| And oh! what rapturous feelings | |
| Thrilled every nerve, and when | 50 |
| I cried, “Oh! Lord my heart is touched,” | |
| You shouted out “Amen.” | |
| My very soul was all ablaze, | |
| I thought that I could see | |
| “The land of rest, the saints delight | 55 |
| The heaven prepared for me.” | |
| |
| I thought “a charge to keep I have” | |
| With mingled fear and shame; | |
| How anxiously I watched, dear Will, | |
| Till I came ’round again! | 60 |
| In my distress I vainly strove | |
| To check the welling tears | |
| “The precious blood poured freely forth | |
| And conquered all my fears.” | |
| |
| But that was many years ago, | 65 |
| And I’ve no doubt that you | |
| Remember still the rainy night | |
| In Deacon Foster’s pew! | |
| But oh! my first “experience” | |
| Will ne’er forgotten be, | 70 |
| “While down the stream of life we glide | |
| To our eternity.” | |
| |
| I’m married now, the gudeman thinks | |
| In me he has a prize; | |
| Ah, me! “Where ignorance is bliss, | 75 |
| ’Tis folly to be wise.” | |
| Of you, dear Will, he nothing knows | |
| And so my heart’s at rest, | |
| “And not a wave of trouble rolls | |
| Across my peaceful breast.” | 80 |
| |
