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The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Third-day, January 28, 1868

FromReview and Herald, Vol. XXXI, No. 7

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By Mrs. H. S. Troy

Composed on the death of little Robbie Langdon, by Mrs. H. S. Troy. The obituary was given in Review, No. 12, Vol. xxx.
I CAN but weep, my boy, for thee; For thou wert all so dear to me; Yet cannot wish thee back again, To this dark world of grief and pain, Where sin and woe luxuriant grow; And cares oft cloud the sunniest brow.
We sadly close the once bright eye, And press the brow so pure and high; We smooth the sunny curls of hair, With wonted tenderness and care, And clasp the dimpled hands to rest Softly upon the pulseless breast.
We clothe the form once blithe and gay, In burial robes with grief to-day, And place it in the silent tomb, Where flowers in early spring will bloom, Where wild birds build their grassy nest, We leave thee, little one, to rest.
The empty crib, the vacant chair, The little robes he used to wear, His playthings scattered on the floor,— Ah! will he never want them more? Be still, my aching heart, be still, But trust, nor murmur at God's will.
Farewell, sweet blossom of a day, I mourn, yet with bright hope can say, He will be mine in that bright home, Where blighting death no more shall come. And though no more thou'lt come to me, Through Christ I soon shall go to thee.