69
The stranger reached out for the door of the place
That brings oh! so many to sin and disgrace.
He opened the way to a dark, dingy room,
But the door stood ajar, like the door of a tomb,
That led to another, and here gathered 'round,
With singing and laughter to shut out the sound
Of the storm as it hurried so piteously on,
As it even this place of destruction to shun,
Were the drunkard's companions, while Minnie, poor child,
Was waiting without, in the tempest so wild.
That brings oh! so many to sin and disgrace.
He opened the way to a dark, dingy room,
But the door stood ajar, like the door of a tomb,
That led to another, and here gathered 'round,
With singing and laughter to shut out the sound
Of the storm as it hurried so piteously on,
As it even this place of destruction to shun,
Were the drunkard's companions, while Minnie, poor child,
Was waiting without, in the tempest so wild.
He hurried away with a sigh from the place
When he saw one form sleeping the sleep of disgrace;
He knew it was death that had stamped that cold brow,
Though the drunkard's companions thought not of it now;
And sitting down near her, he drew her to him,
The lamp of her life, growing momently dim.
"Dear Minnie," he whispered, "I've sad news to tell,
But you know that your Father in Heaven doeth well;
You never need wait in the cold bitter rain,
Your father is free from this earth and its pain."
When he saw one form sleeping the sleep of disgrace;
He knew it was death that had stamped that cold brow,
Though the drunkard's companions thought not of it now;
And sitting down near her, he drew her to him,
The lamp of her life, growing momently dim.
"Dear Minnie," he whispered, "I've sad news to tell,
But you know that your Father in Heaven doeth well;
You never need wait in the cold bitter rain,
Your father is free from this earth and its pain."
