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THE MONITOR FRIEND IN HEAVEN.

We had dearly loved each other

Through the pleasant days of youth, As a brother loveth brother,

With a warm, confiding truth.

We had gone on with joy unbroken,

In youth's impulse strong and brave, And in our talk, no word was spoken

Of a youthful early grave.

Life was stretching bright before us,

With its business brave and high ! Summer skies were shining o'er us,

Summer light was in each eye.

Many plans were ours of pleasure,

And of deeds for winning praise; None but hearts like ours can measure

All our plans for coming days.

THE MONITOR FRIEND IN HEAVEN.

49

Those days have come, for swift time flieth

The crops are reaped which Hope hath sown; A dark way before me lieth,

For I'm journeying all alone.

Where is he who with me started ?

He who hoped and loved with me? Death our enclasped hands hath parted;

He is with eternity.

Once, I saw him glad and joyous,

In laughing tones we then talked o'er What of gladness should employ us,

In the days for us in store.

Next, I saw him pale and gasping,

Strength-eating sickness was his lot; Mine, his cold white hand was clasping,

Yet he knew his old friend not.

Next, there came a voice of wailing

Heart-broken sighs of tearless wo! Sand into the new grave falling, Upon the coffin lid below.

Then I wept with heavy sorrow;

Youthful griefs soon have an end, And there came a bright to-morrow,

When I thought not of my friend.

Poor and vain was then my knowledge

Of this earth, with sorrow rife; Little knew I of the yearnings

And the wants of human life.

The days have come when I am wearied

When companionship I crave; Now I feel how much I buried

In that cold and yellow grave.

Divided joys and shared pleasures,

Kind words of counsel, chastened mirth, All are lying, buried treasures,

Lost to me, beneath the earth.

Yet my spirit hath communion

With the habitant of heavenAngel visits, dim re-union,

To a longing heart are given.

THE MONITOR FRIEND IN HEAVEN.

51

Art thou looking from the mansion,

Lost one! God hath given thee, With a sweet, approving sanction,

On these little lines and me?

I am weak; thou art made stronger ;

All things to thee are made plain; I must dwell a little longer

In this world of care and pain.

Life's temptations are upon me;

Death with hastening step draws nigh: Look not, friend, in anger on me,

With thy pure and unfilmed eye.

Though, by and by, I hope to meet thee,

Sand in the upper glass remains : By and by I hope to greet thee,

Freed from gross and sensual chains.

Thou well knowest life is irksome;

How blind-folded mortals go:
And thou knowest sad and darksome

Are the days, that dawn below.

Bear with me, friend! though I should heed not

Whispered tones that half upbraid ; Be not angry, though I wander

In the paths my sin has made.

Midst despondency and sorrow,

Grief and gladness, hope and fear, Seraphic dreams and pictured horror,

I am drawing to thee near.

Standing here, by thy white tomb-stone,

I would send a prayer to thee! Oh! pray to him who ever hearest,

That he will not frown on me!

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