Classic Poem

BY JAMES H. PERKINS .

Stand back; uncovered stand: for, lo!
The parents that have lost their child.
Bow to the majesty of wo!

He came, an herald from above;
Pure from his God he came to them,
Teaching new duties, deeper love;
And, like the boy of Bethlehem,
He grew in stature, and in grace.
From the sweet spirit of his face
They learnt a new, more heavenly joy —
And were the better for their boy.

But God hath taken whom He gave;
Recalled the Messenger He sent;
And now beside the infant's grave
The spirit of the strong is bent.

But though the tears must flow; the heart
Ache with its vacant, strange distress,
Ye did not from your infant part
When his clear eye grew meaningless.
That eye is beaming still; and still
Upon his Father's errand, he —
Your own dear, bright, unearthly boy —
Worketh the kind, mysterious Will;
And from this fount of bitter grief
Will bring a stream of joy.
Oh! may this be your faith, and your relief!

Then will the world be full of him; the sky,
With all its placid myriads, to your eye
Will tell of him; the wind will breathe his tone;
And slumbering in the midnight, they alone,
Your Father and your child, will hover nigh.
Believe in him, behold him everywhere,
And sin will die within you; earthly care
Fall to its earth — and Heavenward, side by side,
Ye shall go up, your infant for your guide.
Ye shall go up, beyond this realm of storms,
Quick, and more quick; till welcomed there above,
His voice shall bid ye, in the might of love,
Lay down these weeds of earth, and wear your native forms.