― 172 ―


As we travel Life's weary journey,
And plod through the gathering years,
With our burdens of care and sorrow,
O'er a pathway bedewed with tears.
If, perchance, for a fleeting moment
Our hearts should with rapture swell,
We have added but one more sorrow,
When we bid the glad time “Farewell.”

I have watched the bright dawn awaking,
And noted each changing light,
As the sun, in its morning splendour,
Dispelled the dark gloom of night.
I have welcomed its bright rays stealing
Over hill-top, and wood, and dell;
Yet, my joy was alloyed with sorrow,
As I bade the bright stars “Farewell.”

  ― 173 ―
I have seen the red sun descending
To its home in the glowing west,
Whilst the tremulous voice of nature
Was solemnly lulled to rest.
I have welcomed the stars, appearing,
And greeted them one by one,
Yet, my greeting was toned with sadness,
As I said “Farewell" to the sun.

When we welcome the summer sunshine,
Farewell to the flowers of Spring.
Adieu to the fruits of Autumn,
When we welcome the frosty king.
Good-bye to the joys of childhood,
When vigorous youth appears;
Then - a season of strife and turmoil,
And - farewell to the vanished years.

I am sighing a farewell message,
As I sit in the gathering gloom.
Farewell to all earthly sorrows,
Then - rest, in the silent tomb.
Farewell to the trees, and flowers,
To mountain, and stream, and dell,
Farewell to the glorious sunlight,
To the moon and stars, “Farewell.”

  ― 174 ―
Farewell to each earthly passion,
To vanity, pride, and strife,
To jealousy, hate, and discord,
To this vanishing dream, called life.
Ambition, nor glory, tempts me,
To yield to their magic spell,
And a feeling of peace pervades me,
As I utter my last “Farewell.”

For I see, through the opening shadows,
A light, like a beacon star,
Inspiring my soul to glory,
As it beckons me from afar.
'Tis the Star of Hope, inviting
To absolute peace and rest,
And I know that the Great Designer
Has planned what is wise and best.

And I feel that, in His great mercy,
In His infinite power and might,
In His justice and perfect wisdom,
His ordinance must be right.
As the Spirit of Hope steals o'er me,
Its whisperings seem to tell
That the perfect and bright hereafter
Will know not the word - “Farewell.”