Held up before us by the hand of God!
He who has long life’s devious pathway trod,
And knows that sorrow is man’s certain doom,
Needs one to help him bear each heavy load.
In search of bliss man never ought to roam,
When lovely woman is the polar star of home.
XXIX.
Love timid flies the busy haunts of men;
The dear domestic altar is his throne;
One word unkind may break his blissful reign;