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| MY son, thou wast my heart’s delight, | |
| Thy morn of life was gay and cheery; | |
| That morn has rushed to sudden night, | |
| Thy father’s house is sad and dreary. | |
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| I held thee on my knee, my son! | 5 |
| And kissed thee laughing, kissed thee weeping; | |
| But ah! thy little day is done, | |
| Thou ’rt with thy angel sister sleeping. | |
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| The staff, on which my years should lean, | |
| Is broken, ere those years come o’er me; | 10 |
| My funeral rites thou shouldst have seen, | |
| But thou art in the tomb before me. | |
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| Thou rear’st to me no filial stone, | |
| No parent’s grave with tears beholdest; | |
| Thou art my ancestor, my son! | 15 |
| And stand’st in Heaven’s account the oldest. | |
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| On earth my lot was soonest cast, | |
| Thy generation after mine, | |
| Thou hast thy predecessor past; | |
| Earlier eternity is thine. | 20 |
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| I should have set before thine eyes | |
| The road to Heaven, and showed it clear; | |
| But thou untaught spring’st to the skies, | |
| And leav’st thy teacher lingering here. | |
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| Sweet Seraph, I would learn of thee, | 25 |
| And hasten to partake thy bliss! | |
| And oh! to thy world welcome me, | |
| As first I welcomed thee to this. | |
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| Dear Angel, thou art safe in heaven; | |
| No prayers for thee need more be made; | 30 |
| Oh! let thy prayers for those be given | |
| Who oft have blessed thy infant head. | |
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| My father! I beheld thee born, | |
| And led thy tottering steps with care; | |
| Before me risen to Heaven’s bright morn, | 35 |
| My son! my father! guide me there. | |
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