[Pg 50]

And room for all, who, in faith, are hoping,

For all is room in the Promised Land!

And, like, when fig-trees their buds are oping

You know that summer is near at hand;

Thus, when the chill

Of your evening broaches,

You feel, with thrill,

That the friend approaches,

To lead you homeward, where joys excel,

United ever with Him to dwell.

[Pg 51]

When day be cooling, and shadows cover,

With sombre curtains, your hills and dales,

Then, to release you, He near shall hover,

Whose power, great as his love, prevails.

The eye-lids, laded,

A while are closing, ...

The work-tools, jaded,

Benumbed reposing, ...

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