The voice of freedom. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1839-1848, 1839-05-04


the slave is precious than the favor of all the
ates and princes of the earth
LINES,
KITTEN ON THE DEATH OF OLIVE D. HPALDIN
Twas Sabbath morn,
The shadows of the night were fled;
That night was one of anxious care
A mother watched beside her child,
And often, bending Ger her couch>
She breathed n falt'ring sigh.
Those eyes grew dim, those cheeks were wan j.;
Those lips the hue of death disclosed,
And, as she pressed her throbbing pulse,
She felt that life was ebbng fast.
That mother saw that they must part
All ! bitter grief now filed her heart
Long had she watched her dying child,
With unremitting care;
And oft she strove in various ways,
The meek ones suferings to assuage.
Each effort proved vain attempt
To rescue Olive from the grave:
Deaths impress rested on her brow
Meekly resigned the Christian bows,
Nor thinks to doubt her Fathers claim,
To take the blessings first He gave.
She bears the message to her child;
No fear disturbs her tranquil breast
Firm on the Rock her hopes arc placed :
The Lamb of God immaculate
Hath shed his blood that blood hath sealed
Her title TO an immortal crown.
With looks serene-with voice composed,
She hastes her wardrobe to dispose.
That Holy Bool-her guide to Heaven
To Gynthia's care is kindly given:
The lowly African, oppressed
by cruel bodage-galng chain
Her tender sympathies invite,
To sever chains that tyrants forge,
To enlighten souls in darkness cropping
And guide them in the path to Heaven,
For this her purse, was freely given.
All now that child was truly blest
The scenes Of earth recedng FAST
The goal of perfect love in veiw.
Twas Sabbath morn-her hour had come:
Ye angels how ring round her bed,
Waiting her spirit to attend
To those bright realms where Jesus roigns!
Ye mourning friends with solemn tread,
Come view her earthly home dissolve
The silver cord is oosing fast
The purple flood retarded Aows,-
The heaving lungs refuse to move;
All this is death the soul
Departing to its God.
Calm as an infant sinks to rest,
Reposing on its mothers breast
Or like the orient orb of day,
That sometimes winds through clouds his way
Until his course is almost run,
When clouds disperse and golden rays
Reflect pure, brilliant light.
Thus Olive died her sky serene -
Yea, beatifc visions seemed
Fast dawning on her view
Dauntless she treads the surging wave,
Reclining on her Saviour's arm.
Let Fancy trace her upward fight,
Guided by revelations light
Swift on, the wings of love she flies
To meet her Saviour in the skies
Clad in the robe her Saviour wrought,
With groans and blood on Calvarys mount;
At Heavens portals, 10, she waits,
Till op ming wide the heavenly gates
radent form her entrance greets.
Spotless and pure--a seraph now,
She hastens near the throne to bow /;
Receives the welcome plaudit come,
Faithful and good, thy work is done;
Receive the joys for those PREPARED,
Who served on earth their dying Lord,
A golden harp her hands embrace,
Joyous she tune. the notes OF praise,
That with seraphic choirs unite
Spreading through all the realms Of light
And now repair,
Not to the scenes of painful care,
But to tho closets calm retreat,
There bowling at the Saviour's feet,
Like her who washed his feet with tears,
So may'st thou shed the silent tears
Which fond affection justly claims.
But mother though affections tears
Are falling fast--yet smiles would seem
A fitting guest upon thy brow
Smile that thy child had entered now
The Sabbath of eternal rest
Smile that her conflicts now are DER,
That sin annoys her peace no more
Smile that her happy spirit scars
Where streams of endless pleasure flows