Sidor som bilder

I will not shrink, tho' they may sink,
If Thou wilt spare me but thy love!

Thou rein'st the storm, thou feed'st the worm,
These worlds were thy almighty plan,-
Thou giv'st that sky each beauteous dye,-
But what outgoes thy grace to man?

All love were faint which words can paint ;-
-The sire's who blest me on his knee,

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-The breast's that first my frail form nurst,
Compar'd with His who died for me!



"Blest days of youth,

Ye never can return."

'Tis sad to think, there was a time,
The heart was not so sear'd as now,
When even the very dread of crime,
Would bring a cloud upon the brow.
'Tis sad to think those days are gone,

And with them many a dream of bliss ;
And hopes which then in prospect shone,
Have faded nor e'er whisper'd this.

Would that those hours were mine again,
I'd leave ambition's fondest schemes;

And count her richest treasures vain,

For one short glance of childhoods dreams.

The bird that leaves a sunny isle,

Can thither fly when storms arise;
But ah! tho' infant moments smile,
Nought can recall their peaceful skies.


The heart was then so pure, so free
From folly, and the vice of age;
And never thought such blots could be
Upon the face of manhood's page.

Sincere in love, in friendship true,

Its little word was free from care;
But sorrow with its moments grew,
Till nought of youth was ling'ring there.

The eye grew dim which once was bright-
We smile but ah! 'tis not sincere :
And tho' at times the heart grows light,
How soon 'tis clouded with a tear.

At morn some fix'd resolve is made-
'Tis broke before the day is past;
And night comes only to upbraid,

The fleeting joys we thought would last.

Thus day by day life hurries on,

By hope and fancy still beguil’d;
And friends are falling one by one
Who were our playmates when a child.
Oh! I could weep as oft I think

How happy then, how alter'd now,
While standing on the grave's dark brink,
With care deep mark'd upon my brow.

'Tis sad to think the time is past,

When shone the morning of our day; 'Tis sad to see the sky o'ercast,

As evening comes with solemn grey.
Then farewell early hopes and joys,
To me you only can give pain,
And vain alas! are all those sighs
Since childhood cannot come again.

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There is a tear that falls unseen,

Nor seeks the downcast eye;

And from its dark and cheerless bed,
Ascends the frequent sigh.

Like drops within some hidden cave,
That wastes the rocks away;
It falls within the bosom's core,
And makes the heart decay.

Its victim too may seem to smile,
Forgetful of its woe,

While life is running fast to waste,
Till all has ceased to flow.

This tear hath wasted many a heart,
Ere youth had seen its prime;
While on life's sea by sorrow tost,
They seem'd the wrecks of time.

This tear hath blighted beauty's cheek,
So full of health and bloom;
For love which promised fair grew false,
And gave her to the tomb.

This tear hath broke a mother's heart
When thinking on her child,
Ere death stepp'd in, and its soft eye
So full of kindness smil'd.

This tear hath seen the exile pine,
Upon a lonely shore;

Till hope forsook his homeward dreams,
And life's pulse beat no more.

This tear hath seen the captive fall,
Beside his long worn chain;

Tho' he undaunted brav'd the fight,
And charg'd amidst the slain.

This tear like that insidious worm,
Which gnaws the giant oak,
Hath levell'd many a noble heart,
And many a heart-string broke.

This tear ne'er courts the busy crowd,
With sympathy to feel;

Nor bids its victim seek those scenes,
Where joy is wont to heal.

Yet, there is one who feels our pain,
Whose hand can send relief,

Who tho' this world may yield no joy
Can mitigate our grief,

And oh! should sorrows path be mine,

That path which Jesus trod;

May the weak heart grow strong in faith,
And soar unto its God.

And full of hope, and joy, and bliss,

May I from earth arise,

When death has set the spirit free,

And wing'd it to the skies.


Under the pressure of violent anguish,

O THOU Great Being! what thou art
Surpasses me to know:

Yet sure I am, that, known to thee
Are all thy works below.


Thy creature here before thee stands,
All wretched and distrest;

But sure those ills that wring my soul
Obey thy high behest.

Sure thou, Almighty, canst not act
From cruelty or wrath!

O, free my weary eyes from tears,
Or close them fast in death!

But if I must afflicted be,

To suit some wise design;

Then man my soul with firm resolves
To bear, and not repine!


FAITH bids the soul ascend on high,
And opens up the gate of bliss;
Her restless wing explores the sky,
And wafts its tidings back to us.
She speaks of joys the blessed know,
And tells of scenes divinely fair
Where streams of gladness ever flow,
And bids us look with wonder there.

Our friends may fill an early grave,
Our every hope in life be lost;
And 'midst the storm the rising wave
May see our bark 'midst breakers tost.
But Faith can gild the dreary tomb,
Where early friends in silence sleep;
And her bright arch can re-illume

That shore beyond the swelling deep.


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