Marie's Poem

I was given a copy of a poem that Marie wrote. It tells of her life from the cradle to the grave. It is very special and my heart is deeply touched each time I read it. She lived a very hard life, just like everyone else during that time. She was born in 1827 and died in 1879, just three short years after arriving in America. Seven of their nine children were still in Norway, two of them were resting in graves.She suffered several years from consumption (tuberculosis) and it eventually took her life.
The last two stanzas were written shortly before her death.

Far from the place where my cradle stood
My widowed mother struggled and strove
Against heavy odds with children three,
But patient and trusting in God was she.

Want and work was our daily bread;
We children oft went hungry to bed.
She early in life sickened and died
Thus ending her struggles.  She was sorely tired.

I, young as I was, found a faithful friend;
Tried and true to the very end,
We had many children and trials too
And had to make shift as poor folk do.

All too soon my youth took flight
Like the roses in spring that die in the night.
Life's bright morning soon changed to gloom
Dark clouds arose with threatening doom.

Thus passed the weary years away
With labor and changing toil each day.
Then came the Gospel's welcome sound
We heard it gladly and happiness found.

But the towers of darkness can stand
The light that shines and brings joy to man.
With children eight we were driven from home
Into a cheerless world to roam.

An industrious man soon finds his place
This also happened in my husband's case.
We found a living and were satisfied
Though work was hard, it had its reward.

Hope springs ever and laughs at want
We stove to reach the Promised Land
Where God could our labor approve and bless
And we might live in happiness.

Now I have reached my life's great goal
But have also tasted the bitter cup
Of parting from those I have loved best
Yet through it all I was greatly blest.

Now my dear children, who alone must stand
Without your parents helping hand,
Keep faith with him who all power is given
He will erase your burden and grant you Heaven.

Listen, my children, to my last few words
Think not that on earth only roses grow.
No, thither beyond, on the Blessed Shore
Neither trial nor thorns will hurt anymore.