Ye, who nursed upon the breast
Of ease and pleasure enervating,
Ever new delights creating,
Which not long retain their zest
Ere upon your taste they pall,
What avail your pleasures all?
In his hard, but pleasant labor,
He, your useful, healthful neighbor,
Finds enjoyment, real, true,
Vainly sought by such as you
Nature's open volume lies,
Richly tinted, brightly beaming,
With its varied lessons teeming,
All outspread before his eyes.
Dewy glades and opening flowers,
Emerald meadows, vernal bowers,
Sun and shade, and bird and bee,
Fount and forest, hill and lea,—
All things beautiful and fair,
His benignant teachers are
Tearing up the stubborn soil,
Trudging, drudging, toiling, moiling,
Hands, and feet, and garments soiling—
Who would grudge the ploughman's toil?
Yet 'tis health and wealth to him,
Strength of nerve, and strength of limb,
Light and fervor in his glances,
Life and beauty in his fancies,
Learned and happy, brave and free,
Who so proud and blest as he?
"HE HATH DONE ALL THINGS WELL."
AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED TO A DEAR FRIEND ON THE DEATH OF A BELOVED FATHER.
The dawn-light wakes, and brightens to the day,
And the slow sun climbs the far eastern skies,
Then, down the western slopes pursues his way,
Till shadows deepen and the twilight dies;—
And still I muse, and wait, and list in vain
For feet that never, never will return,—
For loving words I may not hear again,
Howe'er with ear attent I wait and yearn.
O love that never wavered, never changed!
How shall I miss thee as the years go by?
O tenderest heart that could be estranged!—
O fount that age and suffring could not dry!—
O guiding hand to earliest thought endeared—
O hand that after clung so long to me!—
O patient Father, honored, loved, revered!
How shall I hear life's burden wanting thee?
Be still, fond heart!—another Father, thine—
Both his and thine—still on thee bends His eye;
Thou canst not walk alone, for Love Divine,
Unseen, yet near, each starting tear will dry.
Lean on the strong, true breast, of Love more deep,
More constant far than earthly love may be,
Who gently soothed his pain, and gave him sleep,
And shall enfold, uplift, and comfort thee!
So lay thy burden in His hands, and rest!
Thy Lord hath fathomed every earthly woe;
With patient feet Earth's thorniest pathway pressed,
And left the tomb with Heaven's light aglow;—
For, what them seest not now, some other day,
In lands unreached by sorrow's dreary knell,
Thou in His light shalt read, and meekly say,
"E'en so, dear Lord, Thou hast done all things well."