And my spirit is with Him,
Mother dear!
In the precious home above,
Where all is light and love,
There rests your own dear dove,
Now with Him,
Mother dear!
Through Jesus' blood I'm here,
Mother dear!
In this happy, heavenly land,
One of a glorious band,
Touched by His healing hand,
Through Jesus I am here,
Mother dear!
So dry that bitter tear,
Mother dear!
'Twill not be very long
Ere with Jesus you'll sing the song,
Sung by those who to Him belong,
And wipe that bitter tear -
Mother dear!
BARDFIELD
THE LATE BISHOP MOUNTAIN'S COUNTRY SEAT.
"Far from me and my friends be that frigid philosophy, which can make
us pass unmoved over any scenes which have been consecrated by virtue,
by valour, or by wisdom." - JOHNSON.
Pleasant the memories of our rustic homes! 'Tis pleasant, after December's
murky nights, or January and February's inexorable chills, to go and bask
on the sunny banks of our great river, under the shade of trees, in the
balmy spring, and amidst the gifts of a bountiful nature, to inhale
fragrance and health and joy. Pleasant, also, to wander during September
in our solemn woods, "with footsteps inaudible on the soft yellow floor,
composed of the autumnal sheddings of countless years." Yes, soothing to
us are these memories of home - of home amusements, home pleasures, and
even of home sorrows.
