JT-21-THE RURAL CHRISTIAN

THE RURAL CHRISTIAN

There lives a man remote from pride,
From ostentation free,
The holy spirit is his guide--
But few so kind as he.

No gorgeous pillars prop his dome,
Nor pompous art display’d;
But there remains his humble home,
Immersed in willow shade.

Around this antique dwelling grows,
The sweet perennial flowers,
That scent the zephyr as it blows
Along the leafy bowers.

The waving blue grass makes the green,
And woos the passing eyes;
While flowing shrub’ry deck the scene,
And Lombard poplars rise.

A fruitful garden then extends
Along the passing way;
And with surrounding beauty blends,
And crowns the toils of May.

But all this outward rural bloom,
Can faintly point to thee,
The bliss that decks the cottage room,
When strangers come to see.

The wants of nature are supplied,
By mercy’s tender hand;
With this the man is satisfied,
And would no more demand.

His humble wife and children sweet,
In harmony unite;
And round the throne of mercy meet--
Enjoy supreme delight.

There meekness, peace and friendship dwell,
Upon that hallow’d ground;
And from each breast sweet praises swell,
For blessings they have found.

His wealth is more than shining dust,
Or more than kings bestow--
A hope of crowns that cannot rust,
Releas’d from earth below.