the world’s besetting path. It falls Among them like as dew upon the palls Of parchéd flowers, to raise and nourish in The hour of need the vital spark within. p. 136 p. 137 p. 138 Sweetest and fairest, hallowed day of rest! “Peace” is thy banner and thy mottoed crest— p. 139An open boon to all. The weary wait— The weary wait and sigh to see the gate Of dawn admit thee forth in eastern sky. The merchant’s daughter, as each morn goes by, Looks on the scenes without, and counts the days That fly—six, five, four, three, two, one—and lays A hopeful joy upon the day to come, When she shall by her father sit, and some Inspiring volume read, or, in a walk Through wood or vale, employ the time in talk, Sweet and instructively. The widow waits To see her son come home, and anxious gets When near the hour has drawn that she shall hear The step of her sole comforter draw near, With whom on earth she findeth sweetest joy. The orphans wait, and every night employ A time in prayer, that God be pleased to spare Their elder brother, and bestow him fair And happy days. They long the Sabbath day; For then he comes among them, and doth lay A cheerful spirit to the humble home; Pure and delicious truths he tells them from A flowing heart, and they all love him well. All people love the Sabbath—they who dwell In early years of innocence and joy, And they of lusty prime, whom cares employ p. 140A thousand snares to tangle or to stem. But more than all, the Sabbath is to them A day of sweet delight who totter near The precincts of the grave without a fear— Yea, rather, with a joyous hope ere long To leave the weary ranks they now belong, Of feeble age, and, passing death’s dark throng, Attain the kingdom of eternal song. p. 139 p. 140 p. 143BEAUTY ADORNED. p. 143 Of late stood Time amid the scenes of life, With hoary locks and beard of silvery grey, And furrows deep upon his sage-like brow. Beside him was a dial of huge size, Whereby he shewed the minutes as they grew To hours, and days, and years in silent haste. He was in wistful mood, and, while I saw, Did point his finger to the midnight hour. ’Twas in a dream this wondrous scene appeared, Or in that stupor which is known between The rule of sleep and wake, when neither claim The power of holding a supreme command, Which may be call’d half slumber and half wake. Morpheus had drawn his
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