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When folly's gay pursuits were o'er,
And I could dance and sing no more,
It then occurred how sad 'twould be
Were this world only made for me.


Weep, mourner, for the joys that fade,
Like evening lights away;
For hopes that like the stars decayed,
Have left thy mortal clay ;
Yet clouds of sorrow will dispart,
And brilliant skies be given,
And though on earth the tear may start,
Yet bliss awaits the holy heart
Amid the bowers of heaven,
Where songs of praise are ever sung,
To angel-harp, by angel-tongue.

Weep, mourner, for the friends that pass
Into the lonesome grave,
As breezes sweep the withered grass
Along the whelming wave;


Yet though thy pleasure may depart,
And darksome days be given,
And lonely though on earth thou art,
Yet bliss awaits the holy heart,
When friends rejoin in heaven ;
Where streams of joy glide ever on,
Around the Lord's eternal throne.

Knox. .


Written by Lord Byron, a few weeks before his Death, on the

blank leaf of a Bible,

Within this awful volume lies
The mystery of mysteries ;
Happiest they of human race
To whom their God has given grace
To read, to fear, to hope, to pray,
To lift the latch, to force the way;
And better had they ne'er been born,
Than read to doubt, or read to scorn.



What various hindrances we meet
In coming to a merey-seat !
Yet who that knows the worth of prayer,
But wishes to be often there?


Prayer makes the darkened cloud withdraw,
Prayer climbs the ladder Jacob saw,
Gives exercise to faith and love,
Brings every blessing from above.


Restraining prayer, we cease to fight;
Prayer makes the Christian's armour bright;
And Satan trembles when he sees
The weakest saint upon

his knees.


While Moses stood with arms spread wide,
Success was found on Israel's side ;
But when through weariness they failed,
That moment Amalek prevailed.


Have you no words ? Ah ! think again,
Words flow space when you complain,
And fill your fellow-creature's ear
With the sad tale of all your care.


Were half the breath thus vainly spent,
To heaven in supplication sent,
Your cheerful song would oftener be,
Hear wbat the Lord has done for me.'



When late I saw thy favourite child,

I thought my jealous heart would break But when the unconscious infant smiled

I kissed it for its mother's sake.

I kissed it—and repressed my sighs,

Its father in its face to see ;
But then it had its mother's eyes

And they were all to love and me.

Fair one, adieu ! I must away ;

Since thou art blessed, I'll not repine ; But near thee I can never stay,

My heart again would soon be thine.



When coldness wraps the suffering clay,

Ah! whither strays the immortal mind ? It cannot die, it cannot stay,

But leaves its darkened dust behind. Then, unembodied, doth it trace

By steps each planet's heavenly way ? Or fill at once the realms of space,

A thing of eyes, that all survey?

Eternal, boundless, undecayed,

A thought unseen, but seeing all, All, all in earth, or skies displayed,

Shall it survey, shall it recall: Each fainter trace that


holds So darkly of departed years, In one broad glance the soul beholds,

And all that was at once appears.

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