I sat down at the window, where
I oft had calmed my ruffled feeling,
For summer evening's balmy air
Has for the wounded spirit healing.
That morning I had been quite glad,
For hope had prospects bright in keeping,
But fortune changed, and I was sad,
And there I sat in silence weeping.
'Tis vain I said to hope for good,
Or cherish bliss for one short hour,
If morn puts forth a fragrant bud,
Ere night 'tis but a withered flower.
My Bible lay upon the stand,
In which I'd ofttimes found a blessing,
I quickly took the book in hand,
In hope to learn a useful lesson.
I read upon its open page,
"There is a time and purpose given,
It has been so from age to age,
For everything that's under Heaven."
'Tis vain and wrong to wish, I thought,
That life with me be always sunny,
My cup with bitter never fraught,
But always overflown with honey
When fortune frowns I'll not despair,
I'll only weep away my sorrow,
'Twill ease my heart and brow of care,
I'll laugh when joy returns to-morrow.
DRIFTING.
BY ELLENOR J. JONES.
We are drifting on the sea of life,
Like ships we're tempest-tossed,
And 'mid this world of care and strife
How many are wrecked and lost!