IN PRAYER.
219
The fragrance that lives long after death,
The hope that inspires with every breath,
The wealth of love that is often given
To the humblest child of our God in heaven;
The hope that inspires with every breath,
The wealth of love that is often given
To the humblest child of our God in heaven;
These bless her life, and will ever bless,
Though the world prove to her a wilderness;
Sweet flowers that spring from the desert-gloom,
As the soul flies heavenward from the tomb.
Though the world prove to her a wilderness;
Sweet flowers that spring from the desert-gloom,
As the soul flies heavenward from the tomb.
Oh! prize them well! for thy heart is stirred,
Sweet girl! like the heart of a woodland bird,
Too much, too much, with the brilliant things
That attract to the earth thy spirit's wings.
Sweet girl! like the heart of a woodland bird,
Too much, too much, with the brilliant things
That attract to the earth thy spirit's wings.
Thou wilt pause where its fountains murmuring flow;
That their waters are bitter thou soon wilt know,
And turn, despairing, to deem, perchance,
Even hope of heaven a wild romance.
That their waters are bitter thou soon wilt know,
And turn, despairing, to deem, perchance,
Even hope of heaven a wild romance.
Yet lose not hope! on thy tranquil brow
No dread of the future is weighing now;
But on it rests from thy spirit's wings,
The shadowy glimpse of sublimer things.
No dread of the future is weighing now;
But on it rests from thy spirit's wings,
The shadowy glimpse of sublimer things.
That is over thee now, as thou kneelest there,
Lifting to heaven thy earnest prayer;
Pilling thy bosom with thoughts as bright
As stars that shine through the darkest night:
Lifting to heaven thy earnest prayer;
Pilling thy bosom with thoughts as bright
As stars that shine through the darkest night:
