THE CHANGE.
Written on board the steamboat Gov. Shelby, on the Mississippi river, October 20th, 1839.
Why do I stand so silently,With folded arms and tearful eye?Hour after hour thus I spend,Immers’d in thoughts which know no end.It was not thus in days gone by,When heart and hands found full employ,When earth’s attachments warm’d my breast,And earth’s engagements shared my rest.But now, dejected and alone,My busy thoughts are all I own,Thoughts often sad as parting sighs,When long cemented union dies;But oft’ner sweet as greeting tears,When separations end with years;When nought the union shall destroy,And tears alone can speak the joy.In such a meeting does my heartBy expectation bear a part,When, free from sin, and earth’s alloy,I’ll greet my husband and my boy.But meetings in that world of bliss,Are never tearful as in this;For every tear is wiped away,And every eye beams bright as day.I know my loved ones I shall see,With arms outstretch’d to welcome me;Their angel voices I shall hear,Sounding my rapt’rous welcome there.They’ll lead me to my Savior’s feet,Whom more than all I long to meet,And in one thrilling note of joyI’ll join my husband and my boy!It could not be a tyrant’s nod,Which call’d them to that bright abode;It must have been a Father’s hand,Which led them to the promis’d land.My stately tree, and beauteous flower,Shall never droop or wither more;Transplanted to a genial clime,They flourish in immortal prime.“They are not lost—they’re gone before;”My weary days shall soon be o’er,When all that’s dark shall flee awayBefore the dawn of heavenly day.O, then, my soul! be thankful still,And bow thee to thy Father’s will;His arm shall be thy constant stay,Till thou art sweetly call’d away.I charge my footsteps softly treadThe same dark way the Savior led;My trembling feet shall never slide,With such a Savior at my side.
Why do I stand so silently,With folded arms and tearful eye?Hour after hour thus I spend,Immers’d in thoughts which know no end.It was not thus in days gone by,When heart and hands found full employ,When earth’s attachments warm’d my breast,And earth’s engagements shared my rest.But now, dejected and alone,My busy thoughts are all I own,Thoughts often sad as parting sighs,When long cemented union dies;But oft’ner sweet as greeting tears,When separations end with years;When nought the union shall destroy,And tears alone can speak the joy.In such a meeting does my heartBy expectation bear a part,When, free from sin, and earth’s alloy,I’ll greet my husband and my boy.But meetings in that world of bliss,Are never tearful as in this;For every tear is wiped away,And every eye beams bright as day.I know my loved ones I shall see,With arms outstretch’d to welcome me;Their angel voices I shall hear,Sounding my rapt’rous welcome there.They’ll lead me to my Savior’s feet,Whom more than all I long to meet,And in one thrilling note of joyI’ll join my husband and my boy!It could not be a tyrant’s nod,Which call’d them to that bright abode;It must have been a Father’s hand,Which led them to the promis’d land.My stately tree, and beauteous flower,Shall never droop or wither more;Transplanted to a genial clime,They flourish in immortal prime.“They are not lost—they’re gone before;”My weary days shall soon be o’er,When all that’s dark shall flee awayBefore the dawn of heavenly day.O, then, my soul! be thankful still,And bow thee to thy Father’s will;His arm shall be thy constant stay,Till thou art sweetly call’d away.I charge my footsteps softly treadThe same dark way the Savior led;My trembling feet shall never slide,With such a Savior at my side.
Why do I stand so silently,With folded arms and tearful eye?Hour after hour thus I spend,Immers’d in thoughts which know no end.
Why do I stand so silently,
With folded arms and tearful eye?
Hour after hour thus I spend,
Immers’d in thoughts which know no end.
It was not thus in days gone by,When heart and hands found full employ,When earth’s attachments warm’d my breast,And earth’s engagements shared my rest.
It was not thus in days gone by,
When heart and hands found full employ,
When earth’s attachments warm’d my breast,
And earth’s engagements shared my rest.
But now, dejected and alone,My busy thoughts are all I own,Thoughts often sad as parting sighs,When long cemented union dies;
But now, dejected and alone,
My busy thoughts are all I own,
Thoughts often sad as parting sighs,
When long cemented union dies;
But oft’ner sweet as greeting tears,When separations end with years;When nought the union shall destroy,And tears alone can speak the joy.
But oft’ner sweet as greeting tears,
When separations end with years;
When nought the union shall destroy,
And tears alone can speak the joy.
In such a meeting does my heartBy expectation bear a part,When, free from sin, and earth’s alloy,I’ll greet my husband and my boy.
In such a meeting does my heart
By expectation bear a part,
When, free from sin, and earth’s alloy,
I’ll greet my husband and my boy.
But meetings in that world of bliss,Are never tearful as in this;For every tear is wiped away,And every eye beams bright as day.
But meetings in that world of bliss,
Are never tearful as in this;
For every tear is wiped away,
And every eye beams bright as day.
I know my loved ones I shall see,With arms outstretch’d to welcome me;Their angel voices I shall hear,Sounding my rapt’rous welcome there.
I know my loved ones I shall see,
With arms outstretch’d to welcome me;
Their angel voices I shall hear,
Sounding my rapt’rous welcome there.
They’ll lead me to my Savior’s feet,Whom more than all I long to meet,And in one thrilling note of joyI’ll join my husband and my boy!
They’ll lead me to my Savior’s feet,
Whom more than all I long to meet,
And in one thrilling note of joy
I’ll join my husband and my boy!
It could not be a tyrant’s nod,Which call’d them to that bright abode;It must have been a Father’s hand,Which led them to the promis’d land.
It could not be a tyrant’s nod,
Which call’d them to that bright abode;
It must have been a Father’s hand,
Which led them to the promis’d land.
My stately tree, and beauteous flower,Shall never droop or wither more;Transplanted to a genial clime,They flourish in immortal prime.
My stately tree, and beauteous flower,
Shall never droop or wither more;
Transplanted to a genial clime,
They flourish in immortal prime.
“They are not lost—they’re gone before;”My weary days shall soon be o’er,When all that’s dark shall flee awayBefore the dawn of heavenly day.
“They are not lost—they’re gone before;”
My weary days shall soon be o’er,
When all that’s dark shall flee away
Before the dawn of heavenly day.
O, then, my soul! be thankful still,And bow thee to thy Father’s will;His arm shall be thy constant stay,Till thou art sweetly call’d away.
O, then, my soul! be thankful still,
And bow thee to thy Father’s will;
His arm shall be thy constant stay,
Till thou art sweetly call’d away.
I charge my footsteps softly treadThe same dark way the Savior led;My trembling feet shall never slide,With such a Savior at my side.
I charge my footsteps softly tread
The same dark way the Savior led;
My trembling feet shall never slide,
With such a Savior at my side.