| |
| THIS book is all that ’s left me now,— | |
| Tears will unbidden start,— | |
| With faltering lip and throbbing brow | |
| I press it to my heart. | |
| For many generations past | 5 |
| Here is our family tree; | |
| My mother’s hands this Bible clasped, | |
| She, dying, gave it me. | |
| |
| Ah! well do I remember those | |
| Whose names these records bear; | 10 |
| Who round the hearthstone used to close, | |
| After the evening prayer, | |
| And speak of what these pages said | |
| In tones my heart would thrill! | |
| Though they are with the silent dead, | 15 |
| Here are they living still! | |
| |
| My father read this holy book | |
| To brothers, sisters, dear; | |
| How calm was my poor mother’s look, | |
| Who loved God’s word to hear! | 20 |
| Her angel face,—I see it yet! | |
| What thronging memories come! | |
| Again that little group is met | |
| Within the halls of home! | |
| |
| Thou truest friend man ever knew, | 25 |
| Thy constancy I ’ve tried; | |
| When all were false, I found thee true, | |
| My counsellor and guide. | |
| The mines of earth no treasures give | |
| That could this volume buy; | 30 |
| In teaching me the way to live, | |
| It taught me how to die! | |
| |
