Bedford Inquirer

Poetry.

THE CALIFORNIA BROTHERS.

I am dying, brother dying,
Soon you'll miss me from your berth;
And my body will be lying
'Neath the ocean's briny surf.

I am going, brother, going,
Yet my trust in God is strong;
I am willing, brother, knowing,
That he doeth nothing wrong.

Lay up nearer, brother, nearer,
For my limbs are growing cold;
And thy presence seemeth dearer,
As thy arms around me fold.

Tell my father, when you greet him,
That in death I prayed for him;
Prayed that I might one day meet him
In a world that's free from sin.

Tell my mother, God assist her,
Now that she's growing old;
That her son would glad have kissed her
When his lips were pale and cold.

Tell my sister—I remember,
Every kindly parting word;
And my heart is still kept tender,
By the tear her memory stirred.

Hearken, brother! catch each whisper,
'Tis my wife I speak of now;
Tell, oh! tell her how I missed her.
When the fever burned my brow.

Tell her she must kiss my children,
As the kiss I last impressed;
Hold them as when last I held them,
Closely folded to my breast.

(Oh! my children—heaven bless them;
They were all my life to me;
Would I could once more caress them,
Ere I sink into the sea.

'Twas for them I cross the ocean,
What my hopes were, I'll not tell;
But they've gained an orphans' portion,
Yet "he doeth all things Well."

Give them early to the Saviour,
Putting all their trust in God;
And he never will forsake them,
For he says so in his word.

Tell them I'll ne'er reach the harbor,
Where I sought the precious dust;
But I've gained the port of heaven,
Where the gold shall never rust.

Tell them to secure an entrance.
They will meet their father there:
Faith in Jesus and repentance,
Will secure for each a share.

Hark! I hear my Saviour speaking,
'Tis his voice I know so well;
When I am gone, O, don't be weeping,
Brother, hear my last farewell.