Little Susie, and her Drunken Father.
Within yon trim, new burial-ground,
Saw you one small, fresh-covered mound?
A weeping mother's hope lies there,
A broken father's dumb despair.
Oh, who hath sorrows? who hath woes?
Who falleth first before his foes?
Whose anguish does the most abound?
Whom doth distraction worst confound?
It is the man whose spirits sink,
Yet knows no comforter but Drink:
Who seeketh in the treacherous wine
What only comes by gift divine:
Who tries to drown his grief in gin;
Seeks peace by adding sin to sin,
Still wandering like a guilty ghost:
THAT is the man who suffers most.
Within the selfsame tavern sat
The selfsame man, in idle chat
With other men, but ill at ease;
And full of mournful memories.
"Come, David," cry his comrades, "drink!
It will not do for you to think :
Drink, and forget her. There is nought
Like Drink, to put an end to thought.
"What, man! Shall not the world go round,
Because she lieth underground?
Drink, and forget her!" David did,
Poor slave! what his companions bid.
To banish care and cure regret,
He drank; yet could he not forget:
And now, though he was "half-seas o'er,"
Her face rose clearer than before.
His "Pet," she always had a part
Within the chambers of his heart;
Yet did she fill, I know not how,
A larger space than ever, now.
He raised the glass, all ruby-bright,
To see it "move itself aright;" t
When, lo! a gate within it grew,
With little Susie peering through!
Little Susie, and her Drunken Father.
Chilled, cowed, the hateful place he fled,
To look for comfort from-the dead!
Then, to his home approaching near,
Who was it said, "She is not here"?
Back-staggering, stumbling, tipsy-blind,
He went the slumbering child to find,
Where she was laid beneath a tree,
Whose whispering leaves sang lullaby.
Half-sobered, how his bosom swelled!
How fast the burning tears out-welled!
"Sweet Susie ! hear me, where you lie.
Speak to me, Susie; it is I!"
The gentle summer night-winds swept
Across the bed where Susie slept,
But brought no answer to his call;
And all was dark, and hopeless all.
"GOD help me!" This was all he said.
Then fell he to the ground, as dead,
Upon his little daughter's grave:
But He was nigh who lives to save.
Where endeth Hell? Where openeth Heaven?
Sure, both for David's soul have striven;
For, though a drunkard's sleep it seemed,
It was a sober dream he dreamed.
Conducted by a hand unseen,
O'er mountains brown, and valleys green,
And lonely wilderness immense,
And roaring stream, and forest dense,
And boisterous wold, and peaceful glen-
By haunts of beasts, and homes of men,
To those fair gates he slowly drew
Where Susie yet was looking through.
He saw her in her robes of white,
And felt a new, a vast delight;
He heard her speak his treasured name,
And all the father thrilled his frame.
Then, with a shout of gladness wild,
He forward sprang to clasp his child;
But heard a Voice, as of the sea,
"Bold man! what part hast thou with me?
Little Susie, and her Drunken Father. 85
An iron hand upon him fell,
That dragged him, struggling, down to hell;
To suffer everlasting pains,
With Satan and his hosts, in chains.
A dreadful, wayless, gulf was fixed
The two eternal worlds betwixt ; ||
But Susie still-beyond the stars-
Was gazing, sadly, through the bars.
He woke in anguish and despair,
To groan again his hopeless prayer-
"GOD help me!" And God's help was nigh,
In His poor servant, wandering by.
"WHO, in God's garden lowly laid,
'Out of the depths' implores His aid? T
That Name invoked-even from the grave-
Is swift to hear, and strong to save!
"What brings thee hither, ere thy time?
Say, is it grief? or, is it crime?
Upon His faithful promise stay:
The LAMB can carry both away!"
To David, where amazed he lies,
The voice seems sounding from the skies!
He rises, less dejected now;
With rosy morn upon his brow.
In godly grief, in humble trust,
He sought the Merciful and Just;
He pardon found, and hope, and rest,
In Christ with all believers bless'd.
No longer when his spirits sink,
He seeks his solace in Strong Drink;
He passes by the tavern door,
Again to enter never more.
The Bible marks his duty plain,
Its promises his hopes sustain;
His glorious Captain clears his way,
When troubles rise, or foes waylay.
Sweet Susie, from her place above,
Pursues him with her holy love;
And for his certain coming waits,
Still watching at those "bonny gates."
*Proverbs xxiii. 29, 30. + Proverbs xxiii. 31.
|| Luke xvi. 26. TPsalm cxxx. 1.
AKNIGHT and a lady once met in a grove,
While each was in quest of a fugitive love;
A river ran mournfully murmuring by,
And they wept in its waters for sympathy.
"Oh, never was knight such a sorrow that bore!"
"Oh, never was inaid so deserted before!"
"From life and its woes let us instantly fly,
And jump in together for company."
They searched for an eddy that suited the deed,
But here was a bramble, and there was a weed;
"How tiresome it is!" said the fair, with a sigh;
So they sat down to rest them in company.
They gazed at each other, the maid and the knight,
How fair was her form, and how goodly his height!
"One mournful embrace;" sobb'd the youth, "ere we die !"
So kissing and crying kept company.
"Oh, had I but loved such an angel as you!"
"Oh, had but my swain been a quarter as true!"
"To miss such perfection how blinded was I!"
Sure now they were excellent company.
At length spoke the lass, 'twixt a smile and a tear,
"The weather is cold for a watery bier;
When summer returns we may easily die,
Till then let us sorrow in company."
AUSE not to dream of the future before us;
Pause not to weep the wild cares that come o'er us ;
Hark, how Creation's deep, musical chorus,
Unintermitting, goes up into Heaven!
Never the ocean wave falters in flowing;
Never the little seed stops in its growing;
More and more richly the rose-heart keeps glowing,
Till from its nourishing stem it is riven.
"Labour is worship!"—the robin is singing;
"Labour is worship!"-the wild bee is ringing:
Listen! that eloquent whisper upspringing
Speaks to thy soul from out Nature's great heart.
From the dark cloud flows the life-giving shower;
From the rough sod blows the soft-breathing flower;
From the small insect, the rich coral bower;
Only man, in the plan, shrinks from his part.
Labour is life! 'Tis the still water faileth;
Idleness ever despaireth, bewaileth ;
Keep the watch wound, for the dark rust assaileth;
Flowers droop and die in the stillness of noon.
Labour is glory!—the flying cloud lightens ;
Only the waving wing changes and brightens ;
Idle hearts only the dark future frightens ;
Play the sweet keys, wouldst thou keep them in tune!
Labour is rest from the sorrows that greet us,
Rest from all petty vexations that meet us,
Rest from sin-promptings that ever entreat us,
Rest from world-sirens that lure us to ill.
Work-and pure slumbers shall wait on thy pillow;
Work-thou shalt ride over Care's coming billow;
Lie not down wearied 'neath Woe's weeping-willow!
Work with a stout heart and resolute will!
Labour is health! Lo! the husbandman reaping,
How through his veins goes the life-current leaping!
How his strong arm, in its stalwart pride sweeping,
True as a sunbeam, the swift sickle guides!
Labour is wealth-in the sea the pearl groweth ;
Rich the queen's robe from the frail cocoon floweth ;
From the fine acorn the strong forest bloweth ;
Temple and statue the marble block hides.
Droop not, though shame, sin and anguish are round thee! Bravely fling off the cold chain that hath bound thee! Look to yon pure heaven smiling beyond thee;
Rest not content in thy darkness-a clod!
Work-for some good, be it ever so slowly;
Cherish some flower, be it ever so lowly;
Labour-all labour is noble and holy;
Let thy great deeds be thy prayer to thy God!
|