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No precious author cheers my sou),
Fain would I feed on mercies past,
To mitigate my woe;
While praises overflow.
Beyond this mingled scene;
Though ages roll between.
Courage, my soul! thy threescore years,
And more, are passed away; And many a bitter sigh and tear,
That marked thy gloomy way. In infancy constrained to weep
Beneath affliction's rod, E'en then I felt how rough, how steep,
The way that leads to God.
Once lifted high on pleasure's wing,
Rapt in the world's fantastic ring,
Ah! had my little bark remained
Upon this summer sea,
Were sin and misery.
Behold the slowly-opening bud—the infant on the knee, And pause, and think, how like they are—how like their
course shall be; A rosy hue spreads o'er the flower, in many a beauteous
streak,— The rosy flush of health adorns the infant's smiling cheek.
The bud expands—the child, too, owns the ripening hand of time;
And both are gay, and wearing on, towards their sunny prime;
The sky above them both is bright; or if a cloud appears,
The silvery shower soon passes by—soon dried are boyhood's tears.
But after storms will scathe the flower—tears pour when
manhood's brow Is shadowed o'er with care, or furrowed deep by sorrow's
plough! Then one its zenith bloom attains—his full endowments
one; While fleet as dreams, and scarce observed the hours—
the seasons run.
Stern winter comes—old age creeps on—decay will soon
assail; The leaves are dropping one by one—tbe vigorous senses
fail; A few brief hours—a few short years—have yet to wear
away, Then what the flower ?—pale scentless dust! the man ?—
cold breathless clay.
I stood within a dungeon's wall,
And breathed awhile the captive's air;
Yet sweeter than in marble hall,
Arose to heaven the voice of prayer.
His head upon a stone reclined,
And as he poured his parting breath, Methought the living spark enshrined,
Was triumphing in death..
A few faint beams of living light
Were struggling through the grated bar; Illumining the path of night,
And pointing to his home afar :— Awhile he ceased, and on his cheek,
There stood a hue of heavenly birth; And if a voiceless thing can speak,
It said—' dissolve thou earth!'
And then his eye grew proudly bright,
And glory stamped his pallid brow; 'Hosanna 1 for the steeds of light!
Now Father, for the chariot, now,— The fiery car—the living steed—
My Father's house—my spirit's dome— Burst, burst your bonds—the soul is .freed, •
Rise to your Eden home!'
The mist is on the mountain,
The dew is on the flower,
Now deeper down doth lower!
Assumes a browner hue;
Is fading from my view.
Our favourite bower and me;