[From Manxiana, 1870]

FUNERAL OF THE SUNDAY SCHOLAR.

Beautiful child she was, and well too taught
In Sunday School — all loved Amelia ;
And teachers all would proudly lead the child
In country rambles — listening to her talk
Of all things far and near, for she had lore
Seeming above her age ; and questions asked
The reason why of all things God had made,
Saying she saw her Saviour in them all.
To her He painted the wild roses' hue,
Called forth the morning sun, and bade the moon
Light up the harvest fields at Harvest home,
When the world's sheaves of corn were ripened, fit
For the world's daily bread, as food for all.
Beautiful child ! So soon, alas ! to fade.
Ere yet her eleventh year had o'er her passed,
Consumption seized her in his cold embrace ;
Slow, but yet sure, the canker in the bud
Poison'd her life-long months she lay, and ask'd
Her questions still, and lov'd to see her class
Come and hold chat with her from hour to hour,
And bring her flowers, which seemed to her as texts,
To speak of Christ as wonderful in them.
" Open the window wide," she oft would say, "
And let me see the garden and the school,
And, playmates busy at the usual games,"
For she the day-school tended too as well;
And as she gazed on all, her eye would beam
With angel's brightness, then a tear would fall.
" Good bye," she'd say, " now leave me for a time,
And come again to-morrow with more flowers."
One morrow as they came the heavenly child
Spoke of her death — but not as death to them-
Saying only " Ope the window, I go home,"
And looking up to heaven, departed there.
To-day the funeral was; children were there,
And ere the coffin lid was fastened down
Would take a last fond look at dear Amelia,
So life-like in her death.
And two there were,
Her right and left companions in her class,
Who, as they loving looked, dropped each a flower,
A lily and a rose-bud, near her hand,
Her own desire, they said, as she would like
To see them there when in the higher world,
And sure she'd note them ere they faded both,
For sight could travel quick from star to star,
In heaven she'd see her friends and flowers on earth,
They would not, could not, ever pass away,
A joy they'd be for ever to her there.