Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1867-01-08
POetrV. .
For the Spectator,
THE LAST VISIT.

The LAST VISIT.
In memory of r. P. MCFARLAND, who gave
is life in defence Of Richmond, May 30th, 1864
Twas DER, that pleasant visit DER,
The last farewells were said,
And, though our hearts throbbed tenderly,
No parting tears we shed;
But still we watched that manly form,
Till hidden from our gaze,
And thought that he would come again,
As wont, in other days.
That pleasant visit o how brief.
1t scarcely seemed day,
The happy hours so quickly passed,
So swiftly sped away.
And, though he felt it was the last,
He ne'er would come again.
He cheerful seemed, nor breathed the thought
Lest it should give us pain.
ever shall remember, when
Those loving brothers met
Long months since they had parted last
l think l see them yet.
Grasping with warmth each others hand,
Love beaming in their eye,
And thus they stood, while moments passed
And we stood silent by.
The sweet remembrance of that hour,
That visit fingers STILL
While o'er my trembling heart-Strings,
The tenderest memories thrill,
Those scenes around the loved freside,
How pleasant to recall
His presence ever seemed to breathe
Its influence over all,
Two months had scarcely passed away,
When sad, sad tidings came,
Among the dead that fatal day,
Was numbered his dear nanael
o, who can tell the crushing weight
That came with that fell blow
Those who have felt the same sad stroke
Alone can ever know.
He comes not-and that gentle voice
Well hear, ah nevermore!
That manly step will never tread,
The threshold of our door.
He comes nOt-and the aching hearts
That miss him eve and morn,
VIII speak his name with quivering lips,
With tender, softened tone.
O, even yet l seem to hear
His voice, at eVentide,
Chanting the same sweet melodies
He sang when by my side
Those tones, so full Of harmony,
So soft, and yet so clear;
Whene er I sing his fay rite songs,
They re sounding in my ear.
The hymns he loved will ever be
Sacred and dear to me;
This one he loved above the rest:
Nearer, my God, to Thee"
And then again, Just as I am,
My God, without one plea
These precious words showed him the way
By which he came to Thee"
He told me of some fearful scenes,s
Where he had lately stood,
Where Death swept wide his glittering sword
Reeking with brave mems blood.
O! then he said "twas sweet to trust
His all upon the Lord,
To come without one doubt or fear,
And lean upon His word"
How constantly his letters breathed,
This earnest fervent prayer,
That his dear mother still should plead
That God her child would spare
Would shield from dark temptation s snare
From danger, death, and sin,
And teach him how, mid earthly cares
Eternal life to win.
Twas once when marching ito the 'front.'"
(That solemn hour to ALL
He spake to one beside him, thus,
My Captain, should l fall
O tell my Father, though l know,
Eve wild, and thoughtless been,
trust the precious blood of Christ,
Has cleansed my soul from sin.
And thus he wrote to one he loved,
Not long before he fell,
MY trust in Christ abideth firm,
He doeth all things we'll;
And when the hour of death shall come
Whenever he shall call,
Whatever way, my a0iU is His,
My life, my sout my aN''
He died where ragged the battle high,
AS the Christian soldier dies,
And now, where heroes calmly Sleep
The Christian soldier lies.
His life was bravely, nobly given,
To his country and his God
His ransomed spirit dwells in Heaven,
Redeemed by Jesus blood.
Here we shall miss and mourn him long,
And none his place can fill,
Still may we trust our Fathers love,
And bow beneath His will.
And when our work on earth is done,
Our tolls and sorrows o'er,
God grant that we may meet at last
Where parting is no more.
RosEMoNT, July, 1866. META.
*The battle of Gettysburg.