"He lives alone for others,-- Himself he scorns to save, And ev'n with savage brothers Will share their bloody grave! Woe! woe to us! should England's glory, To our rulers' blame, Close gallant Gordon's wondrous story, England! in thy shame."
This was half prophetic at the time, and we all have grieved for England's Christian hero ever since.
When Lord Shaftesbury's lamented death lately touched the national heart, I felt as others did and uttered this sentiment accordingly:--
"Grieve not for him, as those who mourn the dead; He lives! Ascended from that dying bed, Clad in an incense-cloud of human love, His happy spirit met the blest above; And as his feet entered the golden door, With him flew in loud blessings of the poor; While in a thrilling chorus from below-- Millions of children, saved by him from woe, With their sweet voices joined the seraphim Who thronged in raptured haste to welcome him!
"For God had given him grace, and place, and power To bless the destitute from hour to hour; And from a child to fourscore years and four, All knew and lov'd the Helper of the poor, O coal-pit woman-slave! O factory child! O famished beggar-boy with hunger wild! O rescued outcast, torn from sin and shame! Ye know your friend--by myriads bless his name! We need not utter it--The Good, The Great, These are his titles in that Blest Estate."
I was much touched and pleased with this little anecdote to the purpose. Speaking casually to a bright-looking boy of the Shoeblack Brigade about Lord Shaftesbury (the boy didn't know me from Adam), to find out how far he felt for his lost friend, with tears in his eyes he quoted to my astonishment part of the above, and told me that he and many of his mates knew it by heart, having seen it in some paper. I never said who wrote it (probably he wouldn't have believed me if I had) but left him happy with some pears.
Perhaps I may here add (and all this has been part of "My Life as an Author") a couple of stanzas I wrote, (but never have published till now) on another worthy specimen of humanity, mourned in death by our highest:--
"Simple, pious, honest man, Child of heaven while son of earth, We would praise, for praise we can, Thy good service, thy great worth; Through long years of prosperous place In the sunshine of the Crown, With man's favour and God's grace Humbly, bravely, walked John Brown.