_Poor Scholar._ Most precious words! Now go your way; The summer fields are green and bright; Your tasks are done.--Why do you stay? Christ gave his peace to you: Good night! _Boy._ You look so pale, Sir! you are worse; Let me remain, and be your nurse! Sir, when my mother has been ill, I’ve kept her chamber neat and still, And waited on her all the day! _Schol._ Thank you! but yet you must not stay; Still, still my boy, before we part Receive my blessing--’tis my last! I feel Death’s hand is on my heart, And my life’s sun is sinking fast; Yet mark me, child, I have no fear,-- ’Tis thus the Christian meets his end: I know my work is finished here, And God--thy God too--is my friend! The joyful course has just began; Life is in thee a fountain strong; Yet look upon a dying man, Receive his words and keep them long! Fear God, all-wise, omnipotent, In him we live and have our being; He hath all love, all blessing sent-- Creator--Father--All-decreeing! Fear him, and love, and praise, and trust, Yet have of man no slavish fear; Remember kings, like thee, are dust, And at one judgment must appear. But virtue, and its holy fruits, The poet’s soul, the sage’s sense, These are exalted attributes; And these demand thy reverence. But, boy, remember this, e’en then Revere the gifts, but not the men! Obey thy parents; they are given To guide our inexperienced youth; Types are they of the One in heaven, Chastising but in love and truth! Keep thyself pure--sin doth efface The beauty of our spiritual life: Do good to all men--live in peace And charity, abhorring strife! The mental power which God has given, As I have taught thee, cultivate; Thou canst not be too wise for heaven, If thou dost humbly consecrate Thy soul to God! and ever take In his good book delight; there lies The highest knowledge, which will make Thy soul unto salvation wise! My little boy, thou canst not know How strives my spirit fervently, How my heart’s fountains overflow With yearning tenderness for thee! God keep and strengthen thee from sin! God crown thy life with peace and joy, And give at last to enter in The city of his rest! My boy Farewell--I have had joy in thee; I go to higher joy--oh, follow me! But now farewell! _Boy._ Kind sir, good night! I will return with morning light. [_He goes out._ [_The Poor Scholar sits for some time as in meditation, then rising and putting away all his books, except the Bible, he sits down again._