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PRAYER.
I close thy record, Oh life,Hearts were trumps and I won,Now diamonds are first, and she who wins,Will rue it as I have done.
PRAYER.
"Oh! I am so tired of life," A weary mother said,As on her tear-wet pillow, She laid her aching head.Three little ones to feed and clothe, To earn their daily bread,To hear the nightly echo, Of the drunken father's tread.
There came a day in Winter, The frost was on the pane,The drifted snow lay heavily, O'er meadow, stile, and lane,Within her cheerless home the mother, Listened with a heart of pain,
