Lines On The Death Of A Child, J. W., Aged 11 Years. Poem by Benjamin Cutler Clark

Like a transient shining light,
From beneath a cloudless sky,
Like a swift-wing'd seraph bright,
Thou hast gone to realms on high.

Though so few thy days on earth,
And affliction held thee fast,
Yet thou knew'st the second birth
Ere eleven years had past.

Testimony thou didst leave,
Seldom heard from infant's tongue;
Father, mother, do not grieve
For my loss, although so young.

Mother, do not angels sing?
Oh! I long with them to be,
Praising God, my Saviour King;
Mother, will not you meet me,—

Meet me where the weary rest,
Where affliction is unknown,
Where the saints of God are bless'd:
Meet me round my Father's throne?