Thou angel spirit, who so oft didst sing
My infant cares to sleep upon thy breast,
Let me but hear the rustling of thy wing,
Around thy child its guardian influence fling!
Oh, come thou from the islands of the blest,
And bear my weary soul up to thy sainted
rest!
Can we forget departed friends! Ah, no! Within our hearts their memory buried
The thought that where they are, we too shall
Will cast a light o'er darkest scenes of wo;
For to their own blest dwellings in the skies, The souls whom CHRIST sets free exultingly shall rise.
Thus saints on earth; when sweetly they converse,
And the dear favours of kind heaven rehearse,
Each feels the others joys, both doubly share
The blessings which devoutly they compare.
If saints such mutual joys feel here below,
When they each others heavenly foretaste
know,
What joys transport them at each others sight,
When they shall meet in empyreal height!
Friends, even in heaven, one happiness would
Should they not know each other when in
Dear Sir, I am] in some little disorder by reason of the death of a little child of mine, a boy that lately made us very glad; but now he rejoices in his little orbe, while we think and sigh, and long to be as safe as he is.-Jeremy Taylor to Evelyn, 1656.
Beautiful thing, with thine eye of light,
And thy brow of cloudless beauty bright,
Gazing for aye on the sapphire throne
Of HIM who dwelleth in light alone-
Art thou hasting now on that golden wing,
With the burning seraph choir to sing?
Or stooping to earth, in thy gentleness,
Our darkling path to cheer and bless ?
Beautiful thing! thou art come in love,
With gentle gales from the world above-
Breathing of pureness, breathing of bliss,
Bearing our spirits away from this,
To the better thoughts, to the brighter skies,
Where heaven's eternal sunshine lies,
Winning our hearts by a blessed guile,
With that infant look and angel smile.
Beautiful thing! thou art come in joy, With the look, with the voice of our darling boy
Him that was torn from the bleeding hearts
He had twined about with his infant arts,
To dwell from sin and sorrow far,
In the golden orb of his little star,
Here he rejoiceth in light, while we
Long to be happy and safe as he.
Beautiful thing! thou art come in peace,
Bidding our doubts and our fears to cease,
Wiping the tears which unbidden start
From the bitter fount in the broken heart,
Cheering us still on our lonely way,
Lest our hearts should faint or our feet should
"Till, risen with Christ we at last shall be,
Beautiful thing, with our boy and thee!
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