Three years passed away, and the old man died,
⁠Two households we were before:
Now we gathered all round this one fireside
⁠Thirty years ago, and more.

And now, by these very same windows bright
⁠My children are standing to-day,
Looking out on the green grass, the clouds so light,
⁠The blue heaven that is far away.

Far away, but to their child-thought quite near,
⁠For one has just entered there,
Who had told them God would soon call her home
⁠To his heaven so bright and fair.

They were told God's call had come in the night,
⁠"I did not hear him, mamma,"
"I can see no hole in the clouds all white,
⁠Oh! how did she go, mamma?"

Ah! how do they go? There is answer none,
⁠Be the last watch long or short,
As love holds each look of the dying one
⁠In tender questioning thought.

It came all too soon, that first sad watch,
⁠In the days of spring-time sweet,
He had come home to die, but dying found
⁠The life in Him complete.

Deep sorrow, yet gladness, was ours that day,
⁠When, gathered around his bed,
The Name humbly confessed as there he lay,
⁠We shared in the broken bread.

Father, sister and friend and aunt were there,
⁠And she who had loved so well,
With him through whose life it was holy joy
⁠The glad news of hope to tell.

'Twas sudden and short on that winter day,
⁠When death's vale by him was trod —
No time to think, no farewell could we say:
⁠Father and son were with God.

Peaceful and calm did the aged one lie,
⁠The corn sheaves for garnering drest;
"Yes, to live is Christ, but it's gain to die,"
⁠And she entered into rest.

The watch was not sad, we could scarcely weep
⁠Through those days of the new-born year,
She seemed like a tired child fallen asleep,
⁠But the waking was not here.

She had wandered back to the summer days
⁠And up to the golden gate;
On her lips were words of prayer and praise,
⁠And we could but watch and wait.

And others have crossed to the further shore,
⁠Though not from the old rooftree;
Kind hands closed his eyes, though no kith or kin,
⁠Whose grave is beside the sea,

Where they laid him, though all too late they went
⁠To see that gentle life close,
While with sound of funeral the marriage-bell blent —
⁠So mingle life's joys and woes.

One passed, too, for long happy years a wife,
⁠Who left us a blooming bride,
She quietly laid down the burden of life,
⁠Fair children grown up by her side.

She had looked for new life with summer's warm breath,
⁠Alas! she waited in vain,
The new life was hers, but of heaven, not of earth,
⁠His mother meets Willie again.

I am sitting beside my nursery fire,
⁠Watching my children at play,
And my thoughts go back to the long long years
⁠Whose record is passed away.

They are passed away, but memory still
⁠Calls those faces round me yet;
I hear their voices, am one in their midst,
⁠An unbroken household met.

Ah, me! 'twas a home where goodness, and worth
⁠Found ever a welcome meet,
And none would go, but they fain would renew
⁠The happy memory sweet.

For a Christian life breathed its power around,
⁠Nothing mean could entrance find,
Loving counsel and help alike were given,
⁠Ever courteous, liberal, kind.

Each day brought to each its appointed task:
⁠But the happy social time
Was when over the open book they talked
⁠Of its prose or poet's rhyme;

Or discussion grew strong, deep truths were weighed,
⁠Thought, satire, flashed out by turn;
Or in other moods these aside were laid,
⁠Love's sweeter lesson to learn.

And music and song would the hours beguile
⁠When the evening guests were there,
While the eager talk and the answering smile
⁠Lighted up those faces fair.

But these dumb old walls give no echo back,
⁠They have kept their secrets well,
Fond words have they heard while glad tears were shed,
⁠But never a one they tell.