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TO MARY.

Salisbury and Vergennes, September 4 and 5, 1828.

DEAR MARY, 'tis the fourteenth day
Since I was parted from your side;
And still upon my lengthening way
In solitude I ride;

But not a word has come to tell
If those I left at home are well.

I am not of an anxious mind,
Nor prone to cherish useless fear;
Yet oft, methinks, the very wind
Is whispering in my ear,

That many an evil may take place
Within a fortnight's narrow space.

'Tis true, indeed, disease and pain
May all this while have been your lot;
And when I reach my home again,
Death may have marked the spot.

I need but dwell on thoughts like these,
To be as wretched as I please.

But no, a happier thought is mine;
The absent like the present scene

Is guided by a Friend divine,
Who bids us wait serene

The issues of that gracious will
Which mingles good with every ill.

And who should feel this tranquil trust
In that benignant One above,-
Who ne'er forgets that we are dust,
And rules with pitying love,-

Like us, who both have just been led
Back from the confines of the dead?

Like us, who, 'mid the various hours
That mark life's changeful wilderness,
Have always found its suns and showers
Alike designed to bless?

Led on and taught as we have been,
Distrust would be indeed a sin.

Darkness, 'tis true, and death, must come;
But they should bring us no dismay;
They are but guides to lead us home,
And then to pass away.

O, who will keep a troubled mind,
That knows this glory is designed?

Then, dearest, present or apart,

An equal calmness let us wear;
Let steadfast Faith control the heart,
And still its throbs of care.

We may not lean on things of dust;
But Heaven is worthy all our trust.

SONG.

1815.

O, SAY not that love is the light of an hour,
Which fades when youth's wildness is o'er;
It glows with its purest and liveliest power
When beauty and mirth are no more.

I covet the love that will waken and stay,
Like the progress of light from the dawn,
Which opens in blushes, and spreads into day
More bright as the minutes move on.

The face I could love must reflect the fair beam
Of a soul that is lighted from heaven;

Its smile, like the sunshine that glows on a stream,
Forever unruffled and even.

Then sorrow might come, but it would not be dark; That love on the shadows would shine;

And the near hope of heaven, with its rapturous spark, Would lighten and warm our decline.

FOR THE

ORDINATION OF MR. SPARKS.

1819.

Tune, OLD Hundred.

GREAT GOD, the followers of thy Son,
We bow before thy mercy-seat,
To worship thee, the holy One,
And pour our wishes at thy feet.

O, grant thy blessing here to-day!
O, give thy people joy and peace!
The tokens of thy love display,

And favor that shall never cease.

We seek the truth that Jesus brought;
His path of light we long to tread;
Here be his holy doctrines taught,

And here their purest influence shed.

May faith, and hope, and love abound;
Our sins and errors be forgiven;
And we, in thy great day, be found

Children of God and heirs of heaven!

LINES

Written March 29, 1836.

It is not what my hands have done,
That weighs my spirit down,
That casts a shadow o'er the sun,
And over earth a frown;

It is not any heinous guilt,

Or vice by men abhorred;

For fair the fame that I have built,
A fair life's just reward;

And men would wonder if they knew
How sad I feel with sins so few.

Alas! they only see in part,

When thus they judge the whole;
They cannot look upon the heart,
They cannot read the soul;
But I survey myself within,
And mournfully I feel

How deep the principle of sin

Its root may there conceal,

And spread its poison through the frame Without a deed that men can blame.

They judge by actions which they see
Brought out before the sun;

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