A Gentle Man

I knew a gentle Man;— Alas! his soul has flown; Now that his tender heart is still, Pale anguish haunts my own. His eye, in pity’s tear, Would often saintly swim; He did to others as he would That they should do to him.

He suffered many things,— Renounced, forgave, forbore; And sorrow’s crown of thorny stings, Like Christ, he meekly wore; At rural toils he strove; In beauty, joy he sought; His solace was in children’s words And wise men’s pondered thought.

He was both meek and brave, Not haughty, and yet proud; He daily died his soul to save, And ne’er to Mammon bowed. E’en as a little child He entered Heaven’s Gate; I caught his parting smile, which said, “Be reconciled, and wait.”