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O hour of bliss! when the heart o'erflows
With rapture a mother only knows.
Let it gush forth in words of fervent prayer;
Let it swell up to Heaven for her precious care.

There are smiles and tears in that gathering band,
Where the heart is pledged with the trembling hand.
What trying thoughts in her bosom swell,
As the bride bids parent and home farewell!
Kneel down by the side of the tearful fair,
And strengthen the perilous hour with prayer.

Kneel down by the sinner's dying side,
And pray for his soul through Him who died.
Large drops of anguish are thick on his brow;
O, what are earth and its pleasures now?
And what shall assuage his dark despair,
But the penitent cry of humble prayer?

Kneel down at the couch of departing faith,
And hear the last words the believer saith.
He has bidden adieu to his earthly friends;
There is peace in his eye that upward bends;
There is peace in his calm, confiding air;
For his last thoughts are God's, his last words prayer.

The voice of prayer at the sable bier!

A voice to sustain, to soothe, and to cheer.
It commends the spirit to God who gave;
It lifts the thoughts from the cold, dark grave;
It points to the glory where He shall reign,
Who whispered, "Thy brother shall rise again."

The voice of prayer in the world of bliss!
But gladder, purer, than rose from this.
The ransomed shout to their glorious King,
Where no sorrow shades the soul as they sing;
But a sinless and joyous song they raise,

And their voice of prayer is eternal praise.

Awake, awake! and gird up thy strength
To join that holy band at length!
To Him who unceasing love displays,

Whom the powers of nature unceasingly praise, -
To Him thy heart and thy hours be given;
For a life of prayer is the life of heaven.





WHITHER NOW, sweet spirit, say?
Whither tends our lengthening way?

Sun on sun, and star on star,
We have left behind us far,
Till my awed and raptured mind
Longs a resting-place to find.
Shall these wonders never end?
Whither do we yet ascend?


Gentle brother, onward yet;
Higher wonders must be met.
All these blazing worlds are dim
To the light that mantles Him, -
Him, who calls thee - with his own
To the bliss before his throne.
There are all the pure in heart;
There the loving never part.
Thither pain nor sorrow come;
Happy brother, welcome home!


October 2, 1833.

THE forms they love, let others deck
In robes of rich resplendent fold;
Fling chains of pearl around the neck,
And tip the graceful ear with gold;
And bid the costly bawbles tell
How strong the heart's affections swell.

But she, whose presence cheers my life,
Whose moral beauty makes my pride,
Far lovelier as the trusted wife

Than when the lovely trusting bride,-
Jewels are no interpreter

Of what the husband feels for her.

I see her, on this joyful day,

The idol of her happy home,

Whose grateful inmates kneel and pray

That Heaven would bless for years to come,

Long years of bright rejoicing life, -
This honored mother, friend, and wife.


Wealth has no gifts for such a day;
Words try their feeble strength in vain;-
Yet some slight token may convey
The feelings it cannot explain.
Mother, this simple token take,*
And prize it for a father's sake.

* A little work on Domestic Education.

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