John!" she said, "my own dear boy.
You'll soon be in this world alone;
But you must do the best you can,
And be good children when I'm gone.
"And listen, John, before 'tis night,
My weary spirit will be free;
Then go, and tell the overseer,
For he must see to bury me.
You’ll walk behind my coffin, dears,
There’s little more I have to crave,
But I should like to have my boys
Just drop a tear beside my grave.
And then you’ll have to leave this room,
Because the rent is not all paid,
Since I’ve been ill, I’ve let it run;
You know, I’ve barely earned your bread.
I don’t owe much, I’ve minded that,
And paid it up, though hardly pressed,
The man must take the little things,
And sell the bed to pay the rest.
I’ve mended up your bits of clothes,
It is not much you’ve left to wear,
But keep as decent as you can,
And don’t neglect the house of prayer.
|I can’t speak of your father, John,
You know that he has been my death;
If he comes back – you’ll say, his wife
Forgave him with her dying breath.
But oh, my children! When I’m gone,
Do mind your mother’s warning well,
And shun all drinking, swearing ways,
As you would shun the pit of hell.
I’m going to a happy place,
So beautiful and dazzling bright,
‘Twas in a vision of a dream,
It passed before me in the night.
I felt my spirit caught away,
From all the crowd of toiling folk,
Above the cross upon St. Paul’s,
And far above the fog and smoke.
And higher, higher, up I went,
Until I reached a golden gate,
Where all about in shining rows,
I saw the holy angels wait.
At once, they bid me welcome there,
And all at once, began to sing.
Come in, thou blessed of the Lord,
For thou art welcome to the King.