Poems (Smith)/Our Little Raymond

by Martha A. Smith

OUR LITTLE RAYMOND.

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Our baby-love is sleeping
 In his little casket-bed.
Do not grieve,—stop weeping:
 Leave him resting with the dead.

Flowers bloom around his pillow;
 Their fragrance fill his bed.
Our hearts are grieved with sorrow,
 For the dear one lying dead.

Little angels now forever,
 In their home in Heaven above;
To meet on earth again never,
 But trust in heavenly love.

Mother, thy budding flower
 God has called away
To dwell in his beautiful bower,
 Resting in Heaven to-day.

Oh, who would live forever
 In this fleeting world of sin?
Our home is waiting ever,
 And God will take us in.

The coming of the morrow
 May be our brighter day,
Then who would live in sorrow,
 When we in Heaven may stay.

By prayer and careful watching,
 Till our work on earth is o'er,
Our home above is waiting,
 When we reach the heavenly shore.

There will be friendly greetings,
 By lovely angel forms;
There our loved ones are waiting
 Beyond this world of storms.

There's balm for thy heart-sorrow
 In this lovely living trust.
Let us every comfort borrow
 Till we mingle with the dust.

Our love for children ever
 Dwells within our heart:
Mother-love can never
 Cease till we depart.

Well I know the anguish—
 The bleeding heartfelt sore—
That we can never banish
 Till at rest forever more.

Our baby-loves are sleeping
 In their little grassy bed:
Friends on earth are weeping
 For loved ones with the dead.

When our earthly mission's over,
 And we sleep beneath the sod,
In Heaven our friends discover,
 In the eternal home of God.

Little Raymond now is watching
 At the pearly gate so white,—
At Heaven's portal waiting,
 Till your spirits may unite.

Be ready for the summons
 When your Maker calls away:
There will be a glad re-union
 At the resurrection-day.