LINES
ON THE DEATH OF HENRY DICKSON,
Infant son of Thomas A. Elliott, M. D., of Orangeburg, S. C.
He died ere sorrow’s blighting breathHad o’er him pass’d;Cold sinking in the arms of Death,He breathed his last.But father, mother, do not weep;Your darling babe is but asleepIn Jesus’ arms;He tasted of the cup of pain,Then turned him to his home again—To heavenly charms.Remember how, in gentle tones,The Savior said,While o’er th’ unconscious little onesHis hands he spread,“Forbid them not to come to me;”O! father, mother, will not yeRemember this?Why does not joy each bosom seize,When Jesus says, “Of such as theseMy kingdom is?”Then, while you think upon your boy,Your sainted one,O! sweetly say, with smiles of joy,“God’s will be done!”Go, darling, to thy blissful home,Where pain and death can never come,Nor pale faced woe;Go, nestle in the Savior’s breast;Soon we shall share thy blissful rest;Go, Henry, go!
He died ere sorrow’s blighting breathHad o’er him pass’d;Cold sinking in the arms of Death,He breathed his last.But father, mother, do not weep;Your darling babe is but asleepIn Jesus’ arms;He tasted of the cup of pain,Then turned him to his home again—To heavenly charms.Remember how, in gentle tones,The Savior said,While o’er th’ unconscious little onesHis hands he spread,“Forbid them not to come to me;”O! father, mother, will not yeRemember this?Why does not joy each bosom seize,When Jesus says, “Of such as theseMy kingdom is?”Then, while you think upon your boy,Your sainted one,O! sweetly say, with smiles of joy,“God’s will be done!”Go, darling, to thy blissful home,Where pain and death can never come,Nor pale faced woe;Go, nestle in the Savior’s breast;Soon we shall share thy blissful rest;Go, Henry, go!
He died ere sorrow’s blighting breathHad o’er him pass’d;Cold sinking in the arms of Death,He breathed his last.But father, mother, do not weep;Your darling babe is but asleepIn Jesus’ arms;He tasted of the cup of pain,Then turned him to his home again—To heavenly charms.
He died ere sorrow’s blighting breath
Had o’er him pass’d;
Cold sinking in the arms of Death,
He breathed his last.
But father, mother, do not weep;
Your darling babe is but asleep
In Jesus’ arms;
He tasted of the cup of pain,
Then turned him to his home again—
To heavenly charms.
Remember how, in gentle tones,The Savior said,While o’er th’ unconscious little onesHis hands he spread,“Forbid them not to come to me;”O! father, mother, will not yeRemember this?Why does not joy each bosom seize,When Jesus says, “Of such as theseMy kingdom is?”
Remember how, in gentle tones,
The Savior said,
While o’er th’ unconscious little ones
His hands he spread,
“Forbid them not to come to me;”
O! father, mother, will not ye
Remember this?
Why does not joy each bosom seize,
When Jesus says, “Of such as these
My kingdom is?”
Then, while you think upon your boy,Your sainted one,O! sweetly say, with smiles of joy,“God’s will be done!”Go, darling, to thy blissful home,Where pain and death can never come,Nor pale faced woe;Go, nestle in the Savior’s breast;Soon we shall share thy blissful rest;Go, Henry, go!
Then, while you think upon your boy,
Your sainted one,
O! sweetly say, with smiles of joy,
“God’s will be done!”
Go, darling, to thy blissful home,
Where pain and death can never come,
Nor pale faced woe;
Go, nestle in the Savior’s breast;
Soon we shall share thy blissful rest;
Go, Henry, go!
Orangeburg,August 14, 1841.