Poems (Eddy)/Meeting of My Departed Mother and Husband

by Mary Baker Eddy
Meeting of My Departed Mother and Husband
4533607Poems — Meeting of My Departed Mother and HusbandMary Baker Eddy
JOY for thee, happy friend! thy bark is past
The dangerous sea, and safely moored at last—
     Beyond rough foam.
Soft gales celestial, in sweet music bore—
Spirit emancipate for this far shore—
           Thee to thy home.

"You've traveled long, and far from mortal joys,
To Soul's diviner sense, that spurns such toys,
           Brave wrestler, lone.
Now see thy ever-self; Life never fled;
Man is not mortal, never of the dead:
           The dark unknown.

"When hope soared high, and joy was eagle-plumed,
Thy pinions drooped; the flesh was weak, and doomed
           To pass away.
But faith triumphant round thy death-couch shed
Majestic forms; and radiant glory sped
           The dawning day."

Intensely grand and glorious life's sphere,—
Beyond the shadow, infinite appear
           Life, Love divine,—
Where mortal yearnings come not, sighs are stilled,
And home and peace and hearts are found and filled,
           Thine, ever thine.

"Bearest thou no tidings from our loved on earth,
The toiler tireless for Truth's new birth
Our joy is gathered from her parting sigh:
This hour looks on her heart with pitying eye,—
           What of my child?"

"When, severed by death's dream, I woke to Life,
She deemed I died, and could not know the strife
           At first to fill
That waking with a love that steady turns
To God; a hope that ever upward yearns,
           Bowed to His will."

Years had passed o'er thy broken household band,
When angels beckoned me to this bright land,
           With thee to meet.
She that has wept o'er thee, kissed my cold brow,
Rears the sad marble to our memory now,
           In lone retreat.

"By the remembrance of her loyal life,
And parting prayer, I only know my wife,
           Thy child, shall come—
Where farewells cloud not o'er our ransomed rest—
Hitherto reap, with all the crowned and blest,
           Of bliss the sum.

"When Love's rapt sense the heartstrings gently sweep
With joy divinely fair, the high and deep,
           To call her home,
She shall mount upward unto purer skies;
We shall be waiting, in what glad surprise,
           Our spirits' own!"