That little lock of silvery hair
Reminds me of what friendly care!
And gratefully my memory pays
Its tribute to departed days.
Thou good old friend, so kind and true!
Thy worth was known to very few.
Not in the glare of noon-day sun,
Thy kind and gentle deeds were done;
And silently thy prayers did rise,
With offerings of self-sacrifice.
Not for thy goodness unto me
Do I revere thy memory;
But for the love that never failed,
The courage, too, that never quailed,
When the poor orphan breathed a sigh,
Or slaves required thy sympathy.
While statesmen argued day and night,
To settle whether wrong was right,
Thou hadst no need of subtle art,
Seeing truth with thy honest heart;
Religion was not unto thee
Any recondite mystery.
God loves all, was the simple creed,
Which served thee in each hour of need.
Guileless thy life, serene thy death;
And when had passed thy latest breath,
From thy attendant angel's glance
A light fell on thy countenance;
A gleam of bright celestial love,
Touching this earth from realms above.