BY
MRS. REBEKAH SMITH.
MANCHESTER, N. H.
JOHN B. CLARKE, PRINTER.
1871.
A small volume of poems entitled, “Home Hereand Home in Heaven,” by Annie R. Smith, appearedshortly after her death, in 1855. Her numerousfriends wishing some account of her life and lastsickness, have from time to time desired me to preparesuch a sketch for publication. I have also beenrequested to publish in connection therewith, a collectionof my own poetical efforts. This is the immediateoccasion of the appearance of the presentvolume, the publication of which, circumstances haveconspired to delay till the present time. It lays noclaim to literary merit, but professes to be only adescription in rhyme of some of the ordinary experiencesof life, and the common feelings of the heart.I have appended some additional pieces written byAnnie R. Smith, and some by Uriah Smith, which Ihave desired to see published in this form. It is commended[004]to the charitable consideration of friends,with the hope that its appearance may prove a gratificationand a benefit to some.
Mrs. Rebekah Smith.
West Wilton, N. H.
In the deep recess of the inmost heart,
Where Satan tempts and angels come to shield,
Are foes by which we would be overcome,
Were Christ not with us on the battle-field.
The tempter, seeking whom he may devour,
Would sift as wheat, and finally prevail;
But Jesus intercedes and prays for us,
That faith in these dread conflicts may not fail.
These calls unheeded, who the end can know?
The Spirit grieved and angels forced to leave,
The victims, though unconscious, hastening where
No pardoning love is found, and no reprieve.
If yet there’s hope, one mighty effort make
To conquer, and the enemy defeat;
Watch unto prayer, in Jesus Christ abide,
And hasten to be made in him complete.
No true enjoyment here aside from this.
No other name on earth e’er to be given,
Through him we must be cleansed and purified,
Or closed to us will be the gates of Heaven.
Jesus sees, he feels, he pities; he for us keen anguish knew,
He was numbered with transgressors; harmless, but his friends were few.
Those immersed in love’s deep ocean, nothing will or can offend;
They will bow in sweet submission, knowing Heaven will them defend.
Let us then our suffering brother seek where’er his lot is cast;
Priests and Levites having seen him, on the other side have passed;
But of God he’s not forsaken; He has known each bitter pang;
He has seen his tears and sorrows, and has known from whence they sprang.