Be-True-to-Thy-Trust-by-WG-Walsh.jpg

BE TRUE TO THY TRUST.

Be true to thy trust when no mortal espies thee.
Though secrecy promise to veil they deceit;
Know the vigilant eye of they conscience defies thee,
To play undetected, the knave or the cheat;
If placed where the perils of life will surround thee,
And assailed with temptations as all mortals must.
Life’s trials and dangers will only have crowned thee
Hereafter with glory, if true to they trust.

Art thou poor? What of that! Though thy fortune be jowly.
Though humble thy raiment and mean they estate,
If the thought of thy bosom be peaceful and holy,
And thy heart be untinctured* with malice or hate,
Thou art storing a treasure far richer than ophir.
Beyond the approach of the moth and the rust,
And brighter reward than the miser’s vain coffer
Awaits thee if thou be but true to thy trust.

Be true to thy trust, though the false world discard thee,
And truth-mocking scorner thy efforts despise;
Thy conscience for others neglect will reward thee,
For virtue than wealth is worthier prize;
Yes, virtue calm joys are more true and enduring;
Than pleasures forbidden or passion’s wild gust
Giving place to us her an hereafter securing
Delights everlasting, if true to our trust.

When the thoughts and the feeling that gladdened thy childhood
Have passed like the roseate blushes of more,
When silent and hushed it the song of the wildwood,
And its flowers no longer they pathway adorn
As the day’s beauty blends with the glories of even,
So virtue’s reflection in haloes the just.
And glory more bright than the western heaven,
Shall illumine thy twilight if true to they trust.

Wealth passed away like the mist of the morning,
Ere yet we have clasped it ‘tis vanished anon.
And beauty will fade from the face ‘tis adorning,
But the virtuous have bliss when these phantoms are gone,
And when thou reposest in death’s dreamless slumber.
When thy soul to its maker thy frame to the dust
Have returned, thy children, while proudly they number
Thy virtues shall say he was true to his trust.

W. G WALSH


*un-tinctured = un-tinged.
ophir = biblical land of untold riches

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Clara Augusta's Selected Miscellany 'The Pauper’s Death-Bed'