« PreviousContinue »
Yet she sometimes fondly and sadly took
OFT HAVE I THOUGHT.
Oft have I thought, if I should die,
Oblivion soon the tear might dry,
And hearts, now warm for me, grow cold.
How would my inmost soul be chilled,
And found the seat I left was filled,
No room for me by hearth or board,
Felt e'en by those I most adored,
Well I such may be—yet in my heart
Them no new loves shall bid depart,
A smile should light them as they came,
And they should find me yet the same,
LIGHT OUT OF DARKNESS.
Children of God, who, pacing slow,
Your pilgrim path pursue,
To God's high calling true.—
Why move ye thus—with lingering tread,
A doubtful mournful band?
Why fails the feeble hand?
Oh! wish to know the Saviour's power,
To feel a father's care;
Is all the grief ye share.
The Lord of Light, though veiled awhile,
He hides his noon-day ray,
To gild the closing day;
And bursting through the dusky shroud,
That dared his power invest,
And guide you to his rest.
Bowdler. THE ROSE.
A rose in yonder garden grew
In summer beauty bright;
And bathed in beams of light.
Warm o'er it from the west;
Upon its beauteous breast;
Alas! the flower,—one fatal night,
The mildew rode the gale, And from his pinions scattered blight
O'er garden, bower, and vale. I saw it in the sunny mom,
'Twas dying on its stem; Yet wore, though drooping and forlorn,
Its dewy diadem! But every roving butterfly Looked on the rose and wandered by! The beams of morning had no power
Upon its faded cheek;
They once had loved, a wreck.
Who used to linger here,
And shake away a tear:
It withered in the noon-day (lamp.
And when the shadows fell, The spirit of the evening came,
Bu,t vain its d«wy spell.
Above the hapless flower,
Watched o'er its fading hour.