still you glow, In brighter hues: then cheery go— More suited by a skilful hand To do your father’s high command: Fit ornament for sage or clown, Or beggar’s rags, or kingly crown. p. 229 THE COTTAGE MAID. Aloft on the brow of a mountain, And hard by a clear running fountain, In neat little cot, Content with her lot, Retired, there lives a sweet maiden. Her father is dead, and her brother— And now she alone with her mother Will spin on her wheel, And sew, knit, and reel, And cheerfully work for their living. p. 230To gossip she never will roam, She loves, and she stays at, her home, Unless when a neighbour In sickness does labour, Then, kindly, she pays her a visit. p. 230 With Bible she stands by her bed, And when some blest passage is read, In prayer and in praises Her sweet voice she raises To Him who for sinners once died. Well versed in her Bible is she, Her language is artless and free, Imparting pure joy, That never can cloy, And smoothing the pillow of death. To novels and plays not inclined, Nor aught that can sully her mind; Temptations may shower,— Unmoved as a tower, She quenches the fiery arrows. She dresses as plain as the lily That modestly glows in the valley, And never will go To play, dance or show— She calls them the engines of Satan. With tears in her eyes she oft says, “Away with your dances and plays! The ills that perplex The half of our sex Are owing to you, Satan’s engines.” p. 231Released from her daily employment, Intent upon solid enjoyment, Her time she won’t idle, But reads in her Bible, And books that divinely enlighten. p. 231 Whilst others at wake, dance, and play Chide life’s restless moments away, And ruin their souls— In pleasure she rolls, The foretaste of heavenly joys. Her soul is refined by her Lord, She shines in the truths of His Word: Each Christian grace Shines full in her face, And heightens the glow of her charms. One day as I passed o’er the mountain, She sung by a clear crystal fountain (Nor knew I was near); Her notes charmed my ear, As thus she
Prev.
Back
Top