As through life you journey onward
Many a hill you'll have to climb;
Many a rough and dang'rous pathway,
You'll encounter time and time.
Now and then a gleam of sunshine,
Will bring hope to cheer your breast;
Then press onward,—ever trusting,—
Do your best and leave the rest.
Though your progress may be hindered,
By false friends or bitter foes;
And the goal for which you're striving,
Seems so far away,—who knows?
You may yet have strength to reach it,
E'er the sun sinks in the west;
Ever striving,—still undaunted;—
Do your best and leave the rest.
If you fail, as thousands must do,
You will still have cause for pride;
You will have advanced much further,
Than if you had never tried.
Never falter, but remember,
Life is not a foolish jest;
You all are in the fight to win it;—
Do your best and leave the rest.
If at last your strength shall fail you,
And your struggles have proved vain;
There is One who will sustain you;—
Soothe your sorrow,—ease your pain,
He has seen your earnest striving,
And your efforts shall be blest;
For He knows, that you, though failing,
Did your best,—He'll do the rest.
To my Daughter on her Birthday.
Darling child, to thee I owe,
More than others here will know;
Thou hast cheered my weary days,
With thy coy and winsome ways.
When my heart has been most sad,
Smile of thine has made me glad;
In return, I wish for thee,
Health and sweet felicity.
May thy future days be blest,
With all things the world deems best.
If perchance the day should come,
Thou does leave thy childhood's home;
Bound by earth's most sacred ties,
With responsibilities,
In another's life to share,
Wedded joys and worldly care;
May thy partner worthy prove,—
Richest in thy constant love.
Strong in faith and honour, just,—
With brave heart on which to trust.
One, to whom when troubles come,
And the days grow burdensome,
Thou canst fly, with confidence
In his love's plenipotence.
And if when some years have flown,
Sons and daughters of your own
Bless your union, may they be
Wellsprings of pure joy to thee.
And when age shall line thy brow,
And thy step is weak and slow,—
And the end of life draws near
May'st thou meet it without fear;
Undismayed with earth's alarms,—
Sleeping,—to wake in Jesus' arms.
Remorse.
None ever knew I had wronged her,
That secret she kept to the end.
None knew that our ties had been stronger,
Than such as should bind friend to friend.
Her beauty and innocence gave her
Such charms as are lavished on few;
And vain was my earnest endeavour
To resist,—though I strove to be true.
She had given her heart to my keeping,—
'Twas a treasure more precious than gold;
And I guarded it, waking or sleeping,
Lest a strange breath should make it grow cold.
And I longed to be tender, yet honest,—
Alas! loved,—where to love was a sin,—
And passion was deaf to the warning,
Of a still small voice crying within.
I feasted my eyes on her beauty,—
I ravished my ears with her voice,—
And I felt as her bosom rose softly,
That my heart had at last found its choice.
'Twas a wild gust of passion swept o'er us,—
Just a flash of tumultuous bliss;—
Then life's sunlight all vanished before us,
And we stood by despair's dark abyss.