THE AGED

SAINT.

(Ballad Metre.-1862.)

THE Sunny cloud and azure blue
Which marks the summer sky,
Had chang'd into the sombre hue
Of autumn drawing nigh.

The fields of once refreshing green

A golden aspect wore,

While trees and hedgerows stretch'd between Seem'd fading more and more.

Such the appearance nature bore,
And even such was he-

An aged saint of near fourscore,
Who dying seem'd to be.

Recumbent on the bed of death,
How calm and still he lies!

One hears distinctly every breath
As each brief moment flies.

Why is he calm ?-why so resign'd?
How can he thus depart?

Hath nothing on this earth entwin'd
Its tendrils round his heart?

Hath he no mass of wealth to leave--
No darling one to sever?

Hath he no loving friend to grieve
On losing him for ever?

Or, is he not afraid to die,

And pass to realms unknown? There, all alone, see eye to eye Jehovah on His throne.

Oh no! no wealth, and friends but few, On earth to him were given,

Yet he hath friends, and treasure too, Awaiting him in heaven.

Then why should he now fear to yield,

His spirit back again,

To Him who in His love reveal'd

The Lamb for sinners slain?

Right well that dying one doth know,

Each precious promise sure;

Faith shone in all his life below,

So simple and so pure.

In early youth, a shepherd lad,
His quiet flocks did tend;
In thick and rustic garments clad,
From rude winds to defend.

Oft hath he stray'd by Cheviot's hills,
Or Yarrow's "dowie dens,"

And heard the music of the rills,
Come slowly from the glens.

Oft hath he turn'd the sacred page,
When summer hours were long;

And oft did on the hill engage,
In prayer or holy song.

Alas, these younger years are gone,
And time at last doth tell
Upon a form once tall and strong—
Yet mark the old man well.

His frame is bent, his reverend eye,
Hath lost its lustre now;
His locks both thin and silvery
Hang o'er his wrinkl'd brow.

But yet that lasting truth divine,
In age supports him still;
E'en as it did in olden time,

When reading on the hill.

And so when Death, the terror-king, With stealthy step draws near; See the same truth doth solace bring, And casts out every fear.

“Farewell to earth—a long farewell "To fleeting Time," he cried;

"I

go

where lasting pleasures dwell,"

And clos'd his eyes and died.