Years ago one wintry evening
Heaven's gate was opened wide,
And an angel swift descended,
With a sickle at his side.
Paused he at our boy's low trundle
In the evening twilight hour,
Caught away his happy spirit
To its home beyond the stars.
How my heart adores the Giver
Of all good o'er land and sea,
But I praise him more than ever
For the dear ones left to me.
As I think of her he gave me
In my happy youthful time,
How he bound our hearts together
At love's pure and sacred shrine;
As I think of her this moment,
Given me by love divine,
Seems I almost feel the pressure
Of her gentle hand in mine.
In the arms of night I'm folded,
Soon in dreamland I shall roam;
Then I'll go and see the dear ones--
See the dear loved ones at home.
VICTORY.
When you are forgotten or neglected, or purposely set at naught, and you
smile inwardly, glorying in the insult or the oversight, because thereby
counted worthy to suffer with Christ--that is victory.
When your good is evil spoken of, when your wishes are crossed, your
taste offended, your advice disregarded, your opinions ridiculed, and
you take it all in patient, loving silence--that is victory.
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