120
Poems.
Be pleased to lend a listening ear,
To all thy humble suppliants here;
'T is thou alone can grace impart,
To those who pray with fervent heart.
To all thy humble suppliants here;
'T is thou alone can grace impart,
To those who pray with fervent heart.
God of judgment, God of death,
Eternal source of every breath;
Thy veiled, yet thy all-seeing eye,
Each mortal's inmost thoughts descry;
And with a lenient look doth view
Our errors and our foibles too;
Though erring, we would humbly flee,
And dwell forever, God, with thee.
Eternal source of every breath;
Thy veiled, yet thy all-seeing eye,
Each mortal's inmost thoughts descry;
And with a lenient look doth view
Our errors and our foibles too;
Though erring, we would humbly flee,
And dwell forever, God, with thee.
REFLECTIONS IN A GRAVE-YARD.
Again, upon this sacred place,
I 've wandered forth alone,
And mused o'er many a little mound,
The grave hath claimed its own.
I 've wandered forth alone,
And mused o'er many a little mound,
The grave hath claimed its own.
Here rest the gifted and the loved,
From care and sorrow free,
Their brief day-dream of life is o'er,
Their conqueror, Death, is thee.
From care and sorrow free,
Their brief day-dream of life is o'er,
Their conqueror, Death, is thee.
