Was trac’d upon thy cherub face.
When near the doubtful crisis drew,
And keener anguish fill’d my breast;
In trembling hope, the fervent prayer
My agonising soul address’d.
’Twas heard—and health again restores
The sprightly look, the rosy hue:
Father of Heaven, to thee alone,
All gratitude, all praise is due.
NEW-YORK: Printed by JOHN BULL, No. 115, Cherry-Street, where every Kind of Printing work is executed with the utmost Accuracy and Dispatch.—Subscriptions for this Magazine (at 2s. per month) are taken in at the Printing-Office, and by E. MITCHELL, Bookseller, No. 9, Maiden-Lane.