Wednesday, June 11, 2014

"Lines in memory of Mamie Smith of Berlin" (1882)


        In memory of Mamie Smith of Berlin, who died March 16, 1882. Mamie tenderly cared for a blind mother many years.

        The twilight is failing around me,

                Though its glory I cannot see,

        And I sit in the silence thinking

                Of the past that is gone from me.

        I can almost hear the footstep

                And the touch of the loving hand,

        That the golden harp is striking

                In the fair Immanuel land.

        Ah! I miss the hand that caressed me,

                I miss the tender care,

        And the gentle words that soothed me,

                And the face that I knew was fair.

        For the light step grew heavy and weary,

                And the voice had a sadder tone,

        And a fear chilled my heart's low beating

                And the light of my life was gone.

        But I hoped in Him who careth

                For the sparrow in its fall,

        And I prayed that His will should spare her,

                And knew that He heard my call.

        And hope grew stronger and sweeter,

                With my burden at His feet,

        Knowing that He would help me

                In the trials I had to meet.

        But death drew silently nearer,

                She shrank with the loving cry,

        "My poor blind mother I cannot leave,

                I must live, for I cannot die."

        But vain was her prayer and pleading,

                God called her to lands most fair;

        Though the grave is lying between us,

                I know she is lying there.

        In my grief I murmured and chided

                The Hand that was wont to cheer.

        But I know God's love remaineth,

                When He deigned to enter here.

        And I say in my heart, "God took her,"

                And, by faith, I look up and see,

        A face in the throng of the ransomed,

                Which is lovingly turne to me.

        And I dream of a day that is nearing,

                When I shall stand by the shore,

        And see, with the eyes now darkened,

                The one who has gone before.

        My treasure is laid in heaven,

                By mote nor rust defiled;

        But safe in the loving presence

                Of Him who was once a child.

        In my dreams I may hear a chorus,

                I shall hear her voice as they sing,

        And will know that Mamie is kneeling

                At the feet of my Lord and King.

Troy Times. June 1, 1882: 3.

Mamie J. Smith (1857-1882)

Center Berlin Baptist Cemetery

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