he not, was he not all her own,
A choice by friends and parents too approved?
How rapidly with him the days now fly,
With _him_ the partner of her future life;
Happy and joyous as a child she'd been,
Happy as daughter, _happier still as wife_.
But ere eight months in quick succession passed,
One to each human heart a dreaded foe,
Entered her house, and by a single stroke,
Blasted her hopes, and laid her idol low.
Three months of bitter anguish was endured,
But hope again revived, and she was blest,
When pressing to her heart a darling child,
Whose little head she pillowed on her breast.
Not long is she permitted to enjoy,
This sweetest bud of promise to her given;
Short as an angel's visit was its stay,
When God, who gave it, took it up to heaven.
Ah, what a contrast one short year presents!
Replete with happiness--replete with woe;
In that brief space, a maiden called, and wife,
Widow and mother written--childless too.
Surely my friend, I need not say to thee,
Look not to earth for what it can't bestow;
'Tis at the best a frail and brittle reed,
Which trusting for support, will pierce thee through.
Then let us look above this fleeting earth,
To heaven and heavenly joys direct our eyes;
No lasting happiness this world affords--
"He builds too low who builds below the skies."
Weston, Dec. 1, 1852.
LINES.
"They will not frame their doings to turn unto their God.
Hosea, 5:4."
I would frame all my doings to please thee, my God!
'Tis from thee all my mercies proceed;
I would frame all my doings to serve thee, my God!
For thy service is freedom indeed.
I would frame all my doings to please thee, my God!
But how feeble my best efforts are;
Ah! how needful for me is thy chastening rod,
And a proof of thy fatherly care.
I would frame all my doings to serve thee, my God!
But my goodness extends not to thee;
And when on well doing I'm fully intent,
Alas! evil is present with me.
My Creator, Preserver, Redeemer and King,
I would tax all my powers to obey;
But to Him let me look for the help that I need,
Who is the life, the light, and the way.
Weston, Jan. 21, 1853.
"TAKE NO THOUGHT FOR THE MORROW."
Take no thought for the morrow, the Saviour hath said,
And he spake as ne'er man spake before;
"He carried our sorrows," "was acquainted with grief,"
And knew well what the heart could endure.
Let the morrow take care for the things of itself,
And not by its
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