Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/566

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I am Dying.
Hark! I hear my Saviour speaking— 'Tis His voice, I know it well,When I am gone, oh! don't be weeping— Brother, here's my last farewell.
I am Dying.
Raise my pillow, husband dearest; Taint and fainter comes my breath,And these shadows stealing slowly, Must, I know, be those of death.
Sit down close beside me, darling; Let me clasp your warm, strong hand—Yours, that ever has sustained me, To the borders of this land.
For your God and mine—our Father— Thence shall ever lead me on,Where, upon a throne eternal, Sits his loved and only Son.
I've had visions, and been dreaming O'er the past of joy and pain;Year by year I've wandered backward, Till I was a child again—
Dreamed of girlhood, and the moment When I stood your wife and bride—How my heart thrilled with love's triumph In that hour of woman's pride!
Dreamed of thee—and all the earth-cords Firmly twined about my heart—Oh, the bitter burning anguish When I knew that we must part!
It has passed, and God has promised All thy footsteps to attend;He, that's more than friend or brother, He'll be with you to the end.
There's no shadow o'er the portals Leading to my heavenly home;Christ hath promised life immortal And 'tis He that bids me come,
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