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2 Our fathers ! — where are they,
With all they called their own?
And wealth and honor ? - gone !
Thou everlasting Friend !-
Our souls to thee commend.
May we the footsteps trace,
We dwell before thy face. 561.
Swiftness of Time.
How rush the years along!
The burden of a song.
And age, with furrowed brow;
Where, where, in time, is now ?
No present hour is found ;
Of time's unceasing round.
On time no longer lean;
From earth's affections wean.
With truth, with virtue, live;
Eternity shall give.
1 hear the voice that calls me home :
And let thy servant die in peace.
The combat 's o’er, the prize is won;
And now my record 's in the sky.
Save for the friends I held so dear :
And to the friendless prove a friend.
I give my spirit to thy hand;
And shield me in the last alarms.
I hear the voice that calls me home :
Now let thy servant die in peace. 563. C. M. HK. White.
Journeying through Death to Life. 1 THROUGH sorrow's night and danger's path,
Amid the deepening gloom,
Are marching to the tomb.
And all our powers decay,
Shall sleep the years away. 3 Our labors done, securely laid In this our last retreat,
Unheeded, o'er our silent dust
The storms of life shall beat. 4 Yet not thus lifeless, thus inane,
The vital spark shall lie :
To seek its kindred sky.
J. TAYLOR. True Length of Life. 1 LIKE shadows gliding o'er the plain,
Or clouds that roll successive on,
And while we gaze, their forms are gone. 2 “ He lived, — he died”; behold the sum,
The abstract, of th' historian's page!
The infant's day, the patriarch's age. 3 O Father, in whose mighty hand
The boundless years and ages lie,
And use the moments as they ily ; — 4 To crowd the narrow span of life
With wise designs and virtuous deeds :
To share the glory that succeeds. 565. C. H. M.
What is your Life ?
That blossoms and is gone ;
With all its beauty on :
It cuts the lovely flower away.
We love to see its colors glow ;
But, while we look, they die :
To-morrow it may disappear.
In humble praise and prayer,
We feel no anxious care :
When life and all its joys are past.
Is equal warning given ;
Above us is the heaven.
Their bones are in the clay ;
Ourselves may be as they.
He lurks in every flower ;
Its peril every hour.
Of youth's soft cheek decay,
On manhood's middle day ; -
Halt feebly towards the tomb ;-
And dreams of days to come ?
The earth rings hollow from below,
And warns thee of her dead ! 567. L. M.
The time t’insure the great reward;
To thee the sinner may return.
To fit us for the joys of heaven;
Secure the blessings of the day.
Till faith and hope are lost in joy. 568. 8 & 4s. M.
Vanity of the World.
That lure us here !---
The heart's blithe tone ?
When age comes on.
Life is the running of the race, . And death the goal :