December 28
Companions of the Way (Morning)Would God I had died for thee.
SOMEWHERE at every hour The watchman on the tower Looks forth, and sees the fleet Approach of the hurrying feet Of messengers, that bear The tidings of despair:
O Absalom, my son!
He goes forth from the door Who shall return no more. With him our joy departs; The light goes out in our hearts; In the Chamber over the Gate We sit disconsolate:
O Absalom, my son!
That 'tis a common grief Bringeth but slight relief; Ours is the bitterest loss, Ours is the heaviest cross; And for ever the cry will be, "Would God I had died for thee, O Absalom, my son!"
HENRY WADS- WORTH LONG- FELLOW
THE HEART'S CRY
In my prosperity I said, I shall never be moved.