Then, fruition, like the morn,
Will unlock her boundless store;—
Roses bloom without a thorn,
And the day-star set no more.
But, an ocean lies between—
Stormy, to be cross'd alone;
With no ray to intervene—
O'er the cold and dark unknown!
Lo! a soft and soothing voice
Steals like music on my ears;—
"Let the drooping heart rejoice;
See! a glorious dawn appears!"
"When thy parting hours draw near,
And thou trembling view'st the last;
Christ and only Christ can cheer,
And o'er death a radiance cast!"
Weary Pilgrim, dry thy tear,
Look beyond these shades of night;
Mourn not with Redemption near,
Faint not with the goal in sight.
J. C.
Bristol, March 9, 1846.
Footnotes:
[1] The reader will bear in mind that the present work consists of Autobiography, and therefore, however repugnant to the writer's feelings, the apparent egotism has been unavoidable.
[2] Robert Lovell, himself was a poet, as will appear by the following being one of his Sonnets.