  YOU’RE sending Jack a letter, dear— To-day he’s twenty-one, And plainly I can read your pride And joy in the dear son. He wants a message—Ah, if I Could take his hand in mine Instead of putting all my love In one poor little line. But write out clear and let it read To Jack, away from home, Old Grannie says, get ready, For the Kingdom come. You’re smiling daughter as you write, But Jack won’t smile that way, His mind will just go flying back To thoughts of yesterday; Before he got so big and strong, And oh, so very nice, When he was Grannie’s white-haired boy Just dreaming of the skies. So write out clear, and let it read, To Jack, away from home, Old Grannie, says get ready For the Kingdom come. Somehow the letters that we get Don’t seem to come from him, And often when I’ve read them through My poor old eyes are dim, He talks too much of worldly things— My Jack was never proud, Of wealth and fame, and power to win, And going with the crowd. So write out clear, and let it read, To Jack, away from home, Old Grannie says, get ready For the Kingdom come. You think his birthday calls for more Than one poor little line, Nay, there are those who love him less To make him wishes fine; My words go from a faithful heart, They’re true, and they are warm, There’s loving wisdom in them, too, To keep my boy from home. So write out clear, and let it read, To Jack, away from home, Old Grannie says, get ready For the Kingdom come. I’d like to see him as he reads, His blue eyes brimming o’er, And good thoughts rising white and strong To be forgot no more; Heaven will be nearer to his heart Than it has been for years, For he will read in these few words My love, my hope, my prayers. So write it clear, and let it read, To Jack, away from home, Old Grannie says, get ready For the Kingdom come. [Decorative image unavailable.] |
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