I love to think—oh, call it not
A fancy wild and vain—
That thou hast seen and pitied me
Through all these years of pain;
But I shall know how that has been
When we two meet again.
My bleeding feet have left their mark
Wherever they have passed;
But now the sun is getting low,
The shadows lengthen fast,
And Emily, dear Emily,
All will be well at last!
ON THE DEATH OF A FRIEND.
She sleeps the quiet sleep of death and I survive. But for what purpose? why was not I called first to explore the untried regions of eternity? 'Tis known only to Him whose mighty arm often spares the humble flower while the waving trees that stand around it are torn from their roots by the roaring tempest. She has gone before me, and yet how long may it be ere I shall follow her? O solemn thought!—well might it sink deeply into my heart, and taking root there spring forth yielding fruits of repentance. Soon may Death, the great enemy of mankind, add one more ghastly victim to the lifeless piles that lie heaped together in every clime and on every shore; and when my death- knell shall sound will it be the signal of a spirit wailing in the regions of the lost, or rejoicing in the bright realms of everlasting bliss? It is for me, and me alone to decide. Perhaps it is for this that my life has been spared—that I might make a firm and decided choice; and shall I still draw back? shall I still hesitate and remain inactive? No, no; for "now is the accepted time, and now is the day of salvation."
THE HEAVENLY HELPER.
What strange lessons I am every day learning! Thank God for them. They are very unpleasant to human nature, but they are leading me to place less confidence in earthly love and more in heavenly. I have leaned too much upon an arm of flesh, and it is right I should suffer for it. Sweet Saviour, fold me in thine arms; comfort me with thy love; and as soon as thou seest best let me go and live with thee forever.
All earthly hopes have passed away,
Stay with me, O my Saviour, stay:
Thy blessed smile is all the light
That breaks upon my dismal night.
I cling to thee—thou must not go;
Oh, let me tell thee every woe
And whisper in thy ready ear
What other friends would frown to hear.
Distressed in body and in mind,
Diseased and wretched, poor and blind,
I only care to see thy face,—
I only sigh for thy embrace.
I droop, I faint beneath the rod,
It is so heavy, O my God!
Spare me, I cry, in mercy spare—
But thou refusest still the prayer!