The Dying California.

The Dying California.
393.1

Tell my father, when you greet him,
That in death I prayed for him.
Prayed that I might one day meet him
In a world that’s free from sin.
Tell my mother God will help her,
Now that she is growing old,
Say ber her child ld yearn to kiss her.
When his lips grew pale and cold.

Listen, brother, catch each whispers
“Tis my wife I’d sp I’d speak speak of now.
Teil, oh, tell her how I mlased her
When the fever burned my brow:
Tell her brother, closely ifsten.
Don’t forget a single word-
That in death my eyes did glisten
With the tears her mem’ry stirred.

Tell her she must kiss the children,
Like the klas I last impressed.
Hold them as when last I held them
Closely folded to my breast;
Give them early to their Maker,
Putting all their trust in God.
And He never will forsake her,
For He says so in His Word.

Oh. my children! Heaven bless them,
They were all my life to me,
Would I could once more caress them
Ere I sink into the sea.
‘Twas for them I crossed the ocean,
What my hopes were I’ll not tell.
For they’ve gained ned an orphan’s portion-
Yet He doeth all things well.