Ruth and Naomi

Turn my daughters, full of woe,
  Is my heart so sad and lone?
Leave me children⁠—I would go
  To my loved and distant home.

From my bosom death has torn
  Husband, children, all my stay,
Left me not a single one,
  For my life’s declining day.

Want and woe surround my way,
  Grief and famine where I tread;
In my native land they say
  God is giving Jacob bread.

Naomi ceased, her daughters wept,
  Their yearning hearts were filled;
Falling upon her withered neck,
  Their grief in tears distill’d.

Like rain upon a blighted tree,
  The tears of Orpah fell;
Kissing the pale and quivering lip,
  She breathed her sad farewell.

But Ruth stood up, on her brow
  There lay a heavenly calm;
And from her lips came, soft and low,
  Words like a holy charm.

I will not leave thee, on thy brow
  Are lines of sorrow, age and care;
Thy form is bent, thy step is slow,
  Thy bosom stricken, lone and sear.

Oh! when thy heart and home were glad,
  I freely shared thy joyous lot;
And now that heart is lone and sad,
  Cease to entreat⁠—I’ll leave thee not.

Oh! if a lofty palace proud
  Thy future home shall be;
Where sycophants around thee crowd,
  I’ll share that home with thee.

And if on earth the humblest spot,
  Thy future home shall prove;
I’ll bring into thy lonely lot
  The wealth of woman’s love.

Go where thou wilt, my steps are there,
  Our path in life is one;
Thou hast no lot I will not share,
  ’Till life itself be done.

My country and my home for thee,
  I freely, willingly resign,
Thy people shall my people be,
  Thy God he shall be mine.

Then, mother dear, entreat me not
  To turn from following thee;
My heart is nerved to share thy lot,
  Whatever that may be.