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Behold! sad emblems of thy state,
The flowers that paint the field;
Or trees that crown the mountain's brow,
And boughs and blossoms yield.

When chill the blast of winter blows,
Away the summer flies;

The flowers resign their sunny robes,
And all their beauty dies.

Nipt by the year, the forest fades ;
And, shaking to the wind,
The leaves toss to and fro, and streak
The wilderness behind.

The winter past, reviving flowers
Anew shall paint the plain:

The woods shall hear the voice of spring,
And flourish green again :

But man departs this earthly scene,

Ah! never to return:

No second spring shall e'er revive
The ashes of the urn.

The inexorable gates of death,

What hand can e'er unfold?

Who from the cerements of the tomb
Can raise the human mould?

The mighty flood that rolls along
Its torrents to the main,
The waters lost, can ne'er recall
From that abyss again.

The days, the years, the ages, dark

Descending down to night,

Can never, never be redeemed

Back to the gates of light.

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"So man departs the living scene
To night's perpetual gloom;

The voice of morning ne'er shall break
The slumbers of the tomb.

"Where are our fathers? whither gone

The mighty men of old?

The patriarchs, prophets, priests, and kings,
In sacred books enrolled?

"Gone to the resting-place of man,
The everlasting home,

Where ages past have gone before,
Where future ages come."

Thus Nature poured the wail of woe,

And urged her earnest cry;

Her voice in agony extreme

Ascended to the sky.

The Almighty heard: then from his throne

In majesty He rose;

And from the heaven that opened wide,
His voice in mercy flows:

"When mortal man resigns his breath,
And falls a clod of clay,

The soul, immortal, wings its flight
To never-setting day.

"Prepared of old for wicked men,
The bed of torment lies;
The just shall enter into bliss,
Immortal in the skies."

VOL. II.

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"At last, my arms embrace my Lord,
Now let their vigour cease;

At last my eyes my Saviour see,
Now let them close in peace!

"The star and glory of the land,
Hath now begun to shine;

The morning that shall gild the globe
Breaks on these eyes of mine."

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THE PRAYER OF JACOB.

O GOD of Bethel! by whose hand

Thy people still are fed;

Who through this weary pilgrimage,
Hast all our fathers led;

Our vows, our prayers, we now present
Before thy throne of grace:

God of our fathers, be the God
Of their succeeding race.

Through each perplexing path of life Our wandering footsteps guide; Give us each day our daily bread, And raiment fit provide.

Oh! spread thy covering wings around,
Till all our wanderings cease,
And at our father's loved abode,
Our souls arrive in peace!

Such blessings from thy gracious hand
Our humble prayers implore;
And Thou shalt be our chosen God,

And portion evermore.

HYMN.

THE rush may rise where waters flow,
And flags beside the stream;

But soon their verdure fades and dies
Before the scorching beam.

So is the sinner's hope cut off;
Or, if it transient rise,

"Tis like the spider's airy web,

From every breath that flies.

Fixed on his house he leans his house,

And all its props decay;

He holds it fast; but, while he holds,
The tottering frame gives way.

Fair, in his garden, to the sun,

His boughs with verdure smile; And deeply fixed his spreading roots, Unshaken stand awhile.

But forth the sentence flies from heaven,
That sweeps him from his place;
Which then denies him for its lord,
Nor owns it knew his face.

Lo! this the joy of wicked men,
Who heaven's high law despise :
They quickly fall; and in their room,
As quickly others rise.

But, for the just, with gracious care,
God will his power employ;
He'll teach their lips to sing his praise,
And fill their hearts with joy.

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