  A TRUE EXPERIENCE. "Still waiting, dear good grandma, for the blessed angel Death?" "Yes waiting, only waiting to be borne across the sea, To the home my soul's been building all these years of mystery, Through ninety years and over now of deep and wondrous change, Wherein I've known the heights and depths of human feeling's range, And tried to solve the problems old of human life so strange. ****** You want to know my history, because I am so good? Ah, child, no human life can here be fully understood. You call me good, and what is more, a 'true and blessed saint.' (There is illusion sweet indeed in what you child-souls paint Before you know too much of life and feel its evil taint.) You even picture beauties of my home across the sea Which I never dared to hope for e'en on heights of ecstasy. You see me sitting helpless here, blind now for many years, Apparently so full of peace, so free from doubts and fears,— Though never free from Memory's thought which often brings the tears,— The power that even dared to sway to evil ways forsooth. Ah, you but see the blessed fruit of what God planted sure, When in my years of sorrow He was whispering, 'Endure.' You cannot see the dreadful scars which naught on earth can cure. You cannot see the passion wild, when, 'neath the coffin lid, Among the flowers, my children three, my precious all, were hid. Nor can you see my conflict sore, when I went almost mad Before the dying form of him who had loved me from a lad, But still, before my dear one died, more children came to me: Two lovely boys, who seemed at last a recompense to be. For sometimes it does seem as if God sends a special gift, To be a special help and strength, the selfish clouds to lift, Or—what, perhaps, we need as much—the wheat from chaff to sift. Through all my lonely, widowed life I lived in their sweet ways, And found no sacrifice too great in work for future days. At length they were my crowning joy. I'd come again to know The blessings of a married life—the happiest here below— This opened fresh the old deep wounds; but still I had much left, For then I was not, as before, of every child bereft. So on I went in daily life, determined to be true To blessings that were left to me. That does one's life renew,— Remember this, my dear one, when your grandma's gone from you. The years went on. I felt I'd had my share of sorrow's pain, So I banished every lingering thought that Death could come again. But when we are the surest, child, 'tis then he seems to be As if he envied us an hour of joy's sweet company. My husband first was stricken down; then came the added blow: Two grown up sons, all settled with as fine a business show As ever comes to mortals, were cut down in prime of life, Having just begun to free me from the circumstances rife, Which boded of the bitterness of poverty's dread strife. My soul was then so mystified, so dazed before God's will, That I could only find my voice in His calm words, 'Be still.' Oh, could I not been spared this stroke, known one less bitter pain, Was this the way, the only way, eternal life to gain? It cannot be much longer. I shall soon have crossed the sea, To the home my soul's been building all these years of mystery. I've had my share of sorrow, but I've done the best I could. God knows I've tried through all to grow more patient, wise, and good; To get at least this out of life, as every mortal should. But, though I've had his comfort, and still hear his sweet 'Endure,' I feel the bitter heartache which no time or sense can cure. And now I'm only waiting for Death's landing on the shore. I hope 'twill be at sunset when he knocks at my soul's door; For, somehow, it much easier seems to go the unknown way Attended by the beauty of the sun's last glorious ray. But as I calmly wait and think, it does seem rather queer That what you 'blessed angel' call has seemed my chief curse here. Alas! how much we suffer before God's ways appear." |
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