Джон Кибл (John Keble)

St. Andrew's Day

When brothers part for manhood's race,
  What gift may most endearing prove
To keep fond memory its her place,
  And certify a brother's love?

'Tis true, bright hours together told,
  And blissful dreams in secret shared,
Serene or solemn, gay or bold,
  Shall last in fancy unimpaired.

E'en round the death-bed of the good
  Such dear remembrances will hover,
And haunt us with no vexing mood
  When all the cares of earth are over.

But yet our craving spirits feel,
  We shall live on, though Fancy die,
And seek a surer pledge—a seal
  Of love to last eternally.

Who art thou, that wouldst grave thy name
  Thus deeply in a brother's heart?
Look on this saint, and learn to frame
  Thy love-charm with true Christian art.

First seek thy Saviour out, and dwell
  Beneath this shadow of His roof,
Till thou have scanned His features well,
  And known Him for the Christ by proof;

Such proof as they are sure to find
  Who spend with Him their happy days,
Clean hands, and a self-ruling mind
  Ever in tune for love and praise.

Then, potent with the spell of Heaven,
  Go, and thine erring brother gain,
Entice him home to be forgiven,
  Till he, too, see his Saviour plain.

Or, if before thee in the race,
  Urge him with thine advancing tread,
Till, like twin stars, with even pace,
  Each lucid course be duly aped.

No fading frail memorial give
  To soothe his soul when thou art gone,
But wreaths of hope for aye to live,
  And thoughts of good together done.

That so, before the judgment-seat,
  Though changed and glorified each face,
Not unremembered ye may meet
  For endless ages to embrace.

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