All nature smiles—and yet to-day
In memory’s grave I’ve laid away
My idol that has turned to clay.
HAND IN HAND
Hand in hand through the flow’ry ways
Went Dora and I in the bygone days;
A wee girl she, her boy lover I,
Ready to fight for her and die.
Hand in hand through this vale of tears
Went Dora and I in the after-years;
She was my wife and her husband I
Ready to fight for her and die.
Hand in hand to the very last
As her dear eyes dimmed, and her spirit passed;
An angel is she,—alone am I
Ready, O, God! and I cannot die.
“AND FOR THE WEARY, REST”
Of all God’s precious promises
The sweetest and the best
Is, that to weary laden ones
Who come, He giveth rest.
’Tis not of glad Hosannas
And streets of shining gold
We think so much when we are sick
And sorrowful and old.
Ah! there are times we feel too sad
To contemplate the joy,
The great and glorious themes of heaven
That angel-minds employ.
And weak, and worn, and weary,
We long to lay us down,
Feeling we scarce could bear the weight
Of e’en a glory-crown.