Mrs. S. A. Collins



The Dying Child's Farewell

by Mrs. S. A. Collins

Farewell, mother I am going,

      To a far-off better land,

Come up closer to my bedside,

      Let me clasp your loving hand.

Do not weep, I know you'll miss me,

      But with you I'll ever be.

You may think I'm gone forever,

      When my form you cannot see.

Not so dear mother, I'll be near you,

      In my loving nature too;

Be so happy, try to cheer you

      Whatever you are called to do.

Yes! I know this form will moulder,

      In the cold and silent clay,

Waiting for the Resurrection,

      And the long eternal day.

But dear mother, do not murmur.

      God knows best the good for all.

I am ready for the Master,

      Only waiting for his call.

How I love his kind caresses,

      And your sweet and tender eyes,

I shall see them in their beauty.

      In our home beyond the skies.

Good-by mother, when I'm sleeping,

      Lay me gently 'neath the sod.

Keep my grave all green in summer:

Bear up bravely 'neath the rod.

Soon you too will cross the river,

      Join me in that happy land,

Lift my head a little higher,

      Closer clasp my icy hand.

Often-times you gently told me

      All about that heavenly place,

How the streets with gold were shining

      Told me of my Savior's face.

Little did you think you would linger,

      While I slept beneath the sod;

But I'm going mother darling,

      Going soon to be with God.