Dear George, last Monday, when I saw you lie
So sick and ill, I feared you soon might die;
For deep disease had seized your little frame,
Disease for which no remedy they name.
You must soon change, and changing learn to know
An immortality of joy and woe!
You look around for help: you look and see
That every earthly means has failed with thee,
Look at thy mother—can thy mother save,
Or snatch thy body from an early grave?
She loves thee more than any here below,
And grieves to see thee laid by sickness low;
Yet is her love as nothing when compared
With Jesus’ love, who all thy sorrows shared;
Nay, more than shared; who in His body bore
The guilt of those who trust Him, evermore.
Can you not trust Him? Listen to His word,
Listen, remembering that He is the Lord,
Whose word shall stand when mountains can not stay—
Shall stand when heaven and earth shall pass away.
“Look unto Me, and be ye saved,”
He said; “Trust in thy God,” and He shall lift thy head;
“Come unto Me,” when burdened and dismayed;
“Believe on Jesus,” and thou shalt be saved;
“Hear and your soul shall live,”
He says again; “Wait on the Lord,” and you shall strength obtain,
‘Tis not thy “look” that saves, ‘tis not thy trust;
‘Tis not thy “coming,” and yet come you must; ‘
Tis not “believing” which can save thy soul;
It is not “hearing” which can make thee whole,
It is the “Object” upon which you rest,
That brings contentment to your longing breast.
“Look unto Me”—Believe in Christ the Lord;
“Come unto Jcsus”—Hear His gracious word.
Do not you feel, when laid upon your bed,
None like mamma can soothe your aching head:
Do you not know, when fits of sickness rise,
Mamma is looked for with most anxious eyes?
You never think, while looking in distress
For her, your looking makes your sickness less,
Her kindness cheers you; her affection soothes,
‘Tis she, not looking, that the pain removes.
Remember, too, when sick in Buffalo,
How much you wished to her at once to go?
But well I know the thought ne’er crossed your mind,
My going to mamma will make her kind.
You knew she loved you, and would wipe your tears:
Mamma, not going, then assuaged your fears.
Though hating medicine, yet if she sees best,
You take e’en poison, ere you go to rest.
When doctors come, and talk about your case,
You listen to her words, you watch her face;
Mark the expression of her well-known eye,
And are content to bear, if she will try.
‘Tis not your trust that soothes your anxious breast;
Mamma you trust in, and in her find rest.
Transfer this trust to Jesus Christ, dear boy;
Come to thy Saviour and thou shalt find joy.
A mother may forget her darling babe:
A parent wish, but lack the power, to save;
But Jesus never can forget His own;
Eternal power dwells with Him alone.
Eternal love is found within His breast;
O fly to Jesus! He will give you rest.