quote · Legacy record

What are they?—gold and silver, Or what such ore can buy? The price of silken luxury— Rich robes of Tyrian dye? Guests that come thronging in With lordly pomp and state? Or thankless liveried serving men, To stand about the gate? Or are they daintiest meats, Sent up on silver fine? Or golden cups o’er brimm’d With rich Falernian wine? Or parchments, setting forth Broad lands our fathers held? Parks for our deer, ponds for our fish, And woods that may be fell’d? No, no! they are not these! or else God help the poor man’s need! Then, sitting ’mid his little ones, He would be poor indeed! They are not these—our household wealth Belongs not to degree: It is the love within our souls— The children at our knee! My heart o’erfloweth to mine eyes When I see the poor man stand, After his daily work is done, With children by the hand:— And this he kisseth tenderly, And that sweet names doth call; For I know he has no treasure Like those dear children small! Oh, children young, I bless ye! Ye keep such love alive! And the home can ne’er be desolate Where love has room to thrive! Oh, precious household treasures, Life’s sweetest, holiest claim— The Saviour bless’d ye while on earth— I bless ye in His name!

What are they?—gold and silver, Or what such ore can buy? The price of silken luxury— Rich robes of Tyrian dye? Guests that come thronging in With lordly pomp and state? Or thankless liveried serving men, To stand about the gate? Or are they daintiest meats, Sent up on silver fine? Or golden cups o’er brimm’d With rich Falernian wine? Or parchments, setting forth Broad lands our fathers held? Parks for our deer, ponds for our fish, And woods that may be fell’d? No, no! they are not these! or else God help the poor man’s need! Then, sitting ’mid his little ones, He would be poor indeed! They are not these—our household wealth Belongs not to degree: It is the love within our souls— The children at our knee! My heart o’erfloweth to mine eyes When I see the poor man stand, After his daily work is done, With children by the hand:— And this he kisseth tenderly, And that sweet names doth call; For I know he has no treasure Like those dear children small! Oh, children young, I bless ye! Ye keep such love alive! And the home can ne’er be desolate Where love has room to thrive! Oh, precious household treasures, Life’s sweetest, holiest claim— The Saviour bless’d ye while on earth— I bless ye in His name!

Approximate author period: c. 1846 AD · industrial