Oh, that happy month at Brookland Hall,
How soon it passed away!
Cheerful and good were Marian's friends,
And who so kind as they?
And, more than all, while there she stayed
They did their best to bring
The little lamb to that blest fold
Where reigns the Shepherd King.
For many a lesson ne'er forgot,
The little Marian learned;
And a thoughtful and a happier child
She to her home returned.
Years rolled away, the scene has changed,
A wife and mother now,
Marian has found the Wicket Gate,
She and her children too.
And oh! how sweet it is to see
This little Pilgrim band,
As on towards their heavenly home,
They travel hand in hand.
When cloudy days fall to their lot,
They see a light afar,
The light that shone on Bethlehem's plain,
The Pilgrim's guiding star.
And now, dear children, whosoe'er,
Or whereso'er you be,
Who ponder o'er this strange, true tale
Of Marian's history,—
