- — 
 

 
 
 
 
 

THE 
 
 AFRICAN WIDOW. 
 
 Supposed to have been written by tfcelat* 
 LEGH RICHMOND. 
 
 PUBLISHED BT 
 
 THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 
 150 Nassau Street, New York. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 On lately reading the Report of a So- 
 ciety instituted for the relief of the wants 
 of the poor Africans and Asiatic strangers, 
 whom various circumstances in Providence 
 have brought to England, I w;ls much struck 
 with the very affecting narrative of a black 
 woman which is added to the Report. It 
 occurred to me that it might be well to 
 state the circumstances of her life in a few 
 and simple rhymes. The attempt is here 
 made, preserving the particulars of the his- 
 tory' as they are recorded in the account 
 above mentioned. L. R. 
 
THE 
 
 AFRICAN WIDOW 
 
 part I. 
 
 Christians, attend, while I relate 
 A new and simple story, 
 
 ’Twill teach your hearts with thankfulness 
 I o praise the Lord of glory. 
 
 In London city once there dwelt 
 A poor but honest pair : 
 
 God bless’d them with an infant child, 
 
 And she was all their care. 
 
 From Africa’s far distant shores 
 To this good land they came, 
 
 Friendless and poor, alike unknown 
 To fortune and to fame. 
 
 The times grew hard, and keen distress 
 f orced him from her to flee ; 
 
6 
 
 AFRICAN WIDOW. 
 
 (118 
 
 Mutual support in hopes to gain, 
 
 The husband went to tea. 
 
 Oft would the tender wife, with tears, 
 
 Her absent husband mourn ; 
 
 Oft, as she view’d their darling child, 
 
 She sigh’d for his return. 
 
 But oh ! my heart it bleeds to think 
 What sorrows did betide ; 
 
 The parent’s hope, this much-lov’d child, 
 
 It sicken’d, droop’d, and died. 
 
 And while she mourn’d her infant’s loss, 
 Sad tidings came from sea ; 
 
 (The shipwaslost, her husband drown’d,) 
 
 A helpless widow she. 
 
 What tongue can tell, what heart conceive 
 The horrors of her mind ! 
 
 Her husband lost, her infant dead, 
 
 And she was left behind ! 
 
 Loudly she wept, and sigh’d, and groan’d 
 With anguish almost wild ; 
 
 And still she cried, “ My husband’s dead, 
 “ And I have lost my child !” 
 
119 ) 
 
 AFRICAN WIDOW. 
 
 Was there no holy hope divine 
 To calm her anxious care ? 
 
 No consolation from above, 
 
 No remedy in prayer ? 
 
 Ah no ! her dark, untutor’d mind 
 A Stranger was to truth ; 
 
 No God, no Christ, no hope she knew, 
 
 A heathen from her youth. 
 
 Deepest despair possess’d her soul, 
 
 She spake in accents wild, 
 
 And still she cried, “ My husband's dead, 
 “ And I have lost my child 
 
 Oft to the infant’s grave she went 
 Full many a tear to shed, 
 
 And as she wept, still ever cried, 
 
 “ Ah me ! my child is dead 
 
 Each following Week, when Sabbath bells 
 Proclaimed the hour of prayer, 
 
 The open'd church-yard gate soon brought 
 Hie weeping mother there. 
 
 Full three long years in hopeless wo 
 She mourn’d her wretched lot ; 
 
!S 
 
 AFIllC A.V WIDOW. 
 
 (120 
 
 Comfort, like Rachel, she refus’d. 
 Because her child was not. 
 
 How dark the sorrows of a mind 
 With grief like this perplexed! 
 
 In this world she no comfort knew, 
 
 She sought none in die next. 
 
 A moment pause, while thus I end 
 The first part of my story, 
 
 And when you hear what’s yet to come, 
 Oh give to God the glory ! 
 
 PART II. 
 
 Christians, I’ll tell you how the Lord 
 Pity’d this widow’s sorrow ; 
 
 For oft the tear that’s shed to-night. 
 
 Ends in a smile to-morrow. 
 
 1 rom week to week, for three long years. 
 With solemn pace and slow, 
 
 The widow trod the church-yard path 
 In unavailing wo. 
 
121 ) 
 
 AFRICAN WIDOW. 
 
 9 
 
 Once, as she went her custom’d way, 
 Clos’d was the church-yard gate ; 
 
 Far from the grave was she compell’d 
 In pensive grief to wait. 
 
 With streaming eyes she view’d the spot 
 Where her dear babe was laid. 
 
 Denied access, she sat and cried, 
 
 “ Ah me ! my child is dead !” 
 
 Within the adjoining house of God 
 W as heard the voice of prayer ; 
 
 But all was vain to her who knew 
 No voice to soothe her care. 
 
 Once more she came, the gate wa9 clos’d, 
 And she stood weeping there : 
 
 The only pathway which remain’d 
 Lay through the house of prayer 
 
 She saw the attendant at the door. 
 
 And ask’d her leave to pass j 
 
 " Pray, let me go to yonder grave. 
 
 My child’s beneath the grass.” 
 
 Thankful to gain her kind consent, 
 
 Swift through the church she fled. 
 
10 AFRICAN WIDOW. (122 
 
 And reach’d the grave, where still she cried 
 “ Ah me ! my child is dead !” 
 
 While in the church rejoicing saints 
 Songs of thanksgiving shout, 
 
 Low on the ground, in sad despair, 
 
 The widow sat without. 
 
 The hour of mercy then approach’d, 
 
 And God beheld her case, 
 
 The preacher now began t’ unfold 
 The mysteries of grace. 
 
 She linger’d long, but ere he clos’d 
 She rose to journey home ; 
 
 Repassing through the church, she heard, 
 “ Flee from the wrath to come ” 
 
 Struck with the alarming sound, she stopp'd 
 Astonish’d and distress’d; 
 
 The preacher cried, “ Arise, depart, 
 
 “ For this is not your rest. ’ 
 
 Deep in her heart conviction sunk, 
 
 Each word, each thought seemed new ; 
 
 She long’d to ask, “ Can I be saved ? 
 
 “ What must a sinner do ?” 
 
r-23) 
 
 AFRICAN WIDOW. 
 
 11 
 
 O’cnvhelmed with many a rising fear, 
 
 She felt the weight of sin ; 
 
 She wish’d to seek salvation’s path, 
 
 But where must she begin ? 
 
 Convinc’d how far from God she lived. 
 Homeward she bent her way ; 
 
 With thoughts confus’d, and falt’ring tongue 
 Trembling, she tried to pray. 
 
 For mercy now she hourly sued, 
 
 Dropping repentant tears ; 
 
 The thoughts of judgment, death, and sin. 
 Appall’d her soul with fears. 
 
 Earnest she read the word of God, 
 
 But could not find relief, 
 
 As yet a veil was o’er her eyes, 
 
 And she a prey to grief. 
 
 A neighbor told her, whom she ask’d 
 What course she must pursue, 
 
 “ A worthy lady lives hard by. 
 
 “ Who’ll kindly speak to you. 
 
12 
 
 AFRICAN WIDOW. 
 
 (124 
 
 “ She is a lady rich and great, 
 
 “ But she’s a Christian true; 
 She lives a life of doing good, 
 “ And she’ll be good to you.” 
 
 Gladly she hasten’d to the house 
 Where this kind lady dwelt ; 
 
 To her she open’d all her heart, 
 And all she fear’d and felt. 
 With sweet affection and regard 
 The lady heard her woes, 
 Then kindly pointed out the way 
 For souls to seek repose. 
 
125) 
 
 AFRICAN WIDOW. 
 
 13 
 
 She spoke of sin, and spoke of Christ, 
 
 His righteousness and blood ; 
 
 Show’d how the sinner’s only hope 
 In Jesus’ sufferings stood. 
 
 “ Fear not,” said she, “ but humbly come 
 “ With this, thy only plea, 
 
 “ A helpless sinner sure am I 
 “ But Jesus died for me. 
 
 “ Be ev’ry trial sent of God, 
 
 “ A med’cine to thy mind ; 
 
 “ Thy husband and thy infant’s loss 
 “Were both in love design’d. 
 
 “ These were thy idols, these engross’d 
 “ Thy soul’s entirest care ; 
 
 “ He took them both that thou might learn 
 “ To seek thy God by prayer. 
 
 “ That grave where thou so oft hast heav’d 
 “ The sigh of sad despair, 
 
 *‘ A place of mercy proved to thee, 
 
 “ A Savior found thee there. 
 
 “Freely resign thine all to him, 
 
 “ Whose truth shall make thee free ; 
 
14 
 
 AFRICAN WIDOW. 
 
 (126 
 
 “ Believe it and be comforted, 
 
 “ He gave himself for thee.” 
 
 Thus holy counsel from her lips 
 In tender accents fell ; 
 
 Parting, she took her hand, and said, 
 
 “ Sister in Christ, farewell.” 
 
 “ Sister !” — she scarce believed the sound ; 
 “ Sister !” can this be true ? 
 
 Can such a lady own a wretch, 
 
 And call her “ sister” too ? 
 
 The word it pierced her inmost soul. 
 
 The tear responsive fell ; 
 
 What were the feelings of her heart, 
 
 No mortal tongue can tell. 
 
 She thought how lovely grace appears 
 In those whom God makes his : 
 
 What then must be the love of Christ 
 Which brings forth fruit like this ? 
 
 Home she return’d, and prostrate fell 
 At the Redeemer’s feet, 
 
 Pleaded his blood, his life, his death, 
 
 Before the mercy-seat. 
 
AFRICAN WIDOW. 
 
 13 
 
 IJght, like a flood, burst o’er her soul, 
 As Jesus seem’d to say, 
 
 “ I’ve blotted thy transgressions out, 
 
 “ I’ve wash’d thy sins away.” 
 
 Thus did the holy Comforter 
 His peaceful joys impart, 
 
 And poured the oil of gladness out 
 To heal her wounded heart. 
 
 “ Bless’d be my Savior God,” she cried, 
 
 “ All glory be to thee ; 
 
 “ I know that ’tis in faithfulness 
 “ Thou hast afflicted me. 
 
 Dark was my day of ignorance, 
 
 “ And dark of sin my night, 
 
 “ But now the shade of death is turn’d 
 “ To morning’s welcome light. 
 
 “ Incline my soul to serve thee, Lord, 
 
 “ My every power employ, 
 
 “ For thou hast heal’d the widow’s heart, 
 “ And made it sing for joy. __ 
 
 “ Farewell, my babe ; no more I’ll weep, 
 
 “ Nor at thy grave despair, 
 
16 AFRICAN WIDOW. (121 
 
 “ But tnist that God liath made my child 
 “ His own eternal care. 
 
 “ That house of God, where oft I’ll go, 
 “ Shall still this thought afford, 
 
 '* I went to mourn an infant dead, 
 
 ‘ But found a living Lord.” 
 
 Christians, adieu ! I now have told 
 My new and simple story ; 
 
 Ascribe the honor all to God, 
 
 And praise the Lord of Glory. 
 

 
WORE THAN OH* nOHDH*f> 
 
 FOR • i v ' , % %S! 
 
 ' (DIO MM#, 
 
 £iA Knfllisl), j^irncl), daman, toe. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED ■* 
 
 "WITH KEAt’eKGRAVINQS, 
 
 PUBLISHED ET THE 
 
 AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 
 
 NGW-YORK; 150 NASSAD-STREET. 
 EOSTON . 28 CORNHILL. 
 
 To be had in the principal cities and lotniS: 
 
 Egbert, Hovey & King, Printers, 374 P'corl-et,