Look! the night is quickly coming, But there’s nothing I can fear, For it only takes a moment,— Home, you know, is very near.”
So she put away life’s burdens, While they smoothed her silvery hair, And she sweetly smiled in parting For she found her Saviour there.
THE GARDENER.
He who shall sow the little seeds, Must wait for them to grow; Some day when he a solace needs The pure, sweet flowers will blow.
When wintry storms their peace shall take, And they are lost from sight, These little seeds once more will wake, To Heaven’s eternal light.
AT YORK.
The moon-light falls upon the sea, And leaves a path of glory; The waves creep high upon the shore, And roll the shining pebbles o’er; Then, running back in noisy play To meet the ever-dashing spray, Like loyal lovers, gay and free, Repeat the same sweet story.
The light-house, on the lonely isle, Where shadows now are creeping, Like sentinel, so true and brave, Stands forth to stay each coming wave; In raging storm as well as calm This stalwart giant fears no harm, And thro’ the night keeps watch the while The fisher folk are sleeping.