The Poetical Works of the Rev. H. F. Lyte

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1907 edition. Excerpt: ...Of my poor boy; and gave with many a prayer A little favourite Bible to his care, And bade him keep and read it for my sake, The last best gift a mother's love could make.--Then, sir, I gave him up to God; and forth He went, to bless my eyes no more on earth. 'Excuse these tears; they give my heart relief; And God forbids not unrepining grief. The very Saviour wept when He was here; And nature claims the comfort of a tear. I would not strive against my Father's will, Nor reckon aught that comes from Him an ill; But ah! I felt, I feel the chastening rod! And it smote hard though in the hand of God. Five years went by, nor heard I of his fate.--At last, one night, a man came to my gate, A war-worn veteran, but of aspect mild, Who brought, he told me, tidings of my child. 'Sir, I must weep, my feelings must have vent.--This man had marched, had slept in the same tent, With my boy Richard. He had been his friend, And shared his toils and dangers to the end. He was a Christian and a man of prayer, Who loved his God, and served Him everywhere. My wanderer's follies he had seen with pain, And warned him from them kindly, but in vain; Yet joined he not the common laugh and jeer, Nor mocked the precepts he refused to hear. Thus things continued, till the corps were sent On foreign service on the Continent; And there 'mid exile, danger and distress, A graver mood on Richard 'gan to press; His eyes were opened to the path he trod, And his heart yearned to find a friend in God. He sought his pious comrade's company, And read his Bible much, and spoke of me; 0 sir! that Bible my own hands had given, And sure my prayers brought down that grace from Heaven. At length in deadly strife they met their foes, And my poor boy was missing at the close; And...