MY little patient, gone so soon before,
To that mysterious, much desired shore;
When you come there, where yet I hope to be,
-hat will you tell the blessed Lord for me ?
Will you remember I was kind to you ?
And tell Him all the good I sought to do ?
Or will you tell Him I am bruised and sore ?
And that my heart Is tender to the core ?
Or will you ask Him to remove my pain,
And give my darlings back to me again ?
Nay, tell Him this— that I was kind to you.
And how I wrought my best to bring you through.
And then, amid the grief I cannot tell
To any man, but which he knows so well.
He may, perhaps, bestow a peaceful heart,
Until, like you. He calls me to depart.
Remember me to Him, whate ‘er you do.
And tell Him, dear, that I was kind to you.
By: Abraham Perry Miller
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