FRIENDSHIP.
How oft the burdened heart would sink
In fathomless despair
But for an angel on the brink—
In mercy standing there:
An angel bright with heavenly light—
And born of loftiest skies,
Who shows her face to mortal race,
In Friendship's holy guise.
Upon the brink of dark despair,
With smiling face she stands;
And to the victim shrinking there,
Outspreads her eager hands:
In accents low that sweetly flow
To his awakening ear,
She woos him back—his deathward track.
Toward Hope's effulgent sphere.
Sweet Friendship! let me daily give
Thanks to my God for thee!
Without thy smiles t'were death to live,
And joy to cease to be:
Oh, bitterest drop in woe's full cup—
To have no friend in need!
To struggle on, with grief alone—
Were agony indeed!
August. WILLIAM C. RICHARDS.