LINES WRITTEN AT THE GRAVE OF A PIOUS
YOUNG LADY .
Yes, 'twere hard to lay her head
Deep within her narrow bed,
Were't not that we hope to see
Her rise to immortality.
Yes, ' twere hard to leave her there
To wither, once a flower so fair ;
Were we not assured that she
Will bloom again eternally.
'Tis true her voice is no more heard ,
Her lips are closed, nor breathe a word ;
But we hope once more to hear
Her harp play in a happier sphere.
TO A FRIEND IN DISTRESS.
Trust in His name, whose all-commanding word
Bade nature rise from chaos at the sound ;
Oh ! trust in Him, by whose Almighty power
Creation keeps her once appointed round ;
Though on affliction's wave thy bark is driven ,
Still look above the storm , and trust in Heaven .
STANZAS ON COLDNESS OF HEART.
Oh ! when shall this cold heart awake,
And spurn the world for Jesus' sake ?
When shall this panting spirit soar,
And yield to flesh and sense no more ?
Cold as I feel this heart of mine,
Yet since at last I find it so, '
It yields some ray of hope divine,
To better feeling it may grow .
TRANSLATION OF A POEM ENTITLED
THE REV . HENRY RICHARDS .
Beyond the azure clouds of heaven's blue zone ,
The silver moon began to shed her light,
The birds were still, all nature's music gone,
Dark as the grave began the reign of night.
, " BY
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