LINES
ON THE DEATH OF ALONZO CLAUDIUS WHITRIDGE, AGED EIGHT YEARS.
He came into this world of care,A precious gift from Heaven;And on his brow, so passing fair,A holy kiss was given,As, cradled in his mother’s arms,The smiling cherub lay;While gazed the father on his charms,Pure as the opening day.In after months, too tenderlyThey watch’d his gambols wild;Ah! did they know how tenderlyThey held their darling child?A few short hours, and O, the changeTheir sadden’d spirits feel!The tear—the sigh—the gloom; how strange!Who can the cause reveal?Ah! look around—the mother’s armsNo precious burden hold;The father’s heart no longer warmsWith ecstasy untold,As when his playful infant boy,With outstretch’d, dancing hands,In baby language spoke his joy,Or utter’d his commands.Yes, look around! in that still placeA lovely infant lies,A parting smile upon his face,The smile of sweet surprise,As burst upon his ravish’d earThe music of the blestIn Heaven, when harps were tuning thereTo welcomehomethe guest.But hark! a softer, sweeter strainOfinfantharmony!O, who would now to earth enchainThat spirit, pure and free?Though icy cold the body liesEnwrapt in death’s embrace,To Jesus’ arms the spirit flies,Burning to see his face.
He came into this world of care,A precious gift from Heaven;And on his brow, so passing fair,A holy kiss was given,As, cradled in his mother’s arms,The smiling cherub lay;While gazed the father on his charms,Pure as the opening day.In after months, too tenderlyThey watch’d his gambols wild;Ah! did they know how tenderlyThey held their darling child?A few short hours, and O, the changeTheir sadden’d spirits feel!The tear—the sigh—the gloom; how strange!Who can the cause reveal?Ah! look around—the mother’s armsNo precious burden hold;The father’s heart no longer warmsWith ecstasy untold,As when his playful infant boy,With outstretch’d, dancing hands,In baby language spoke his joy,Or utter’d his commands.Yes, look around! in that still placeA lovely infant lies,A parting smile upon his face,The smile of sweet surprise,As burst upon his ravish’d earThe music of the blestIn Heaven, when harps were tuning thereTo welcomehomethe guest.But hark! a softer, sweeter strainOfinfantharmony!O, who would now to earth enchainThat spirit, pure and free?Though icy cold the body liesEnwrapt in death’s embrace,To Jesus’ arms the spirit flies,Burning to see his face.
He came into this world of care,A precious gift from Heaven;And on his brow, so passing fair,A holy kiss was given,As, cradled in his mother’s arms,The smiling cherub lay;While gazed the father on his charms,Pure as the opening day.
He came into this world of care,
A precious gift from Heaven;
And on his brow, so passing fair,
A holy kiss was given,
As, cradled in his mother’s arms,
The smiling cherub lay;
While gazed the father on his charms,
Pure as the opening day.
In after months, too tenderlyThey watch’d his gambols wild;Ah! did they know how tenderlyThey held their darling child?A few short hours, and O, the changeTheir sadden’d spirits feel!The tear—the sigh—the gloom; how strange!Who can the cause reveal?
In after months, too tenderly
They watch’d his gambols wild;
Ah! did they know how tenderly
They held their darling child?
A few short hours, and O, the change
Their sadden’d spirits feel!
The tear—the sigh—the gloom; how strange!
Who can the cause reveal?
Ah! look around—the mother’s armsNo precious burden hold;The father’s heart no longer warmsWith ecstasy untold,As when his playful infant boy,With outstretch’d, dancing hands,In baby language spoke his joy,Or utter’d his commands.
Ah! look around—the mother’s arms
No precious burden hold;
The father’s heart no longer warms
With ecstasy untold,
As when his playful infant boy,
With outstretch’d, dancing hands,
In baby language spoke his joy,
Or utter’d his commands.
Yes, look around! in that still placeA lovely infant lies,A parting smile upon his face,The smile of sweet surprise,As burst upon his ravish’d earThe music of the blestIn Heaven, when harps were tuning thereTo welcomehomethe guest.
Yes, look around! in that still place
A lovely infant lies,
A parting smile upon his face,
The smile of sweet surprise,
As burst upon his ravish’d ear
The music of the blest
In Heaven, when harps were tuning there
To welcomehomethe guest.
But hark! a softer, sweeter strainOfinfantharmony!O, who would now to earth enchainThat spirit, pure and free?Though icy cold the body liesEnwrapt in death’s embrace,To Jesus’ arms the spirit flies,Burning to see his face.
But hark! a softer, sweeter strain
Ofinfantharmony!
O, who would now to earth enchain
That spirit, pure and free?
Though icy cold the body lies
Enwrapt in death’s embrace,
To Jesus’ arms the spirit flies,
Burning to see his face.
Charleston,May, 1834.