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No end to warfare find !" Nor seek thou, limit to discern In patient woe, in duty stern,
But learn thy Mother's mind.
She will not tire on thee to wait
In early hour or late :
To speed, her only dream.
Small joy to her would seem.
And He, the Fountain of her Love,
His treasure-house above
With grace to mourners given, O'er-powering, by the tide of tears, All that from old abhorred years
Remains of wasting leaven.
He pardoning wearies not. Ah why
Behold with evil eye
Of hope in thy last end.
No Saviour and no Friend.
“For I have five brethren; that he may testify unto them, lest they also come into this place of torment."
Five loving souls, each one as mine,
For good or ill
Who for such burthen may suffice ?
Or ill dream told,
Our Master's own ?
We scatter seeds with careless hand,
Their fruit appears,
Or healthful store.
The deeds we do, the words we say,-
But they shall last,
And we shall meet !
I charge thee by the years gone by,
In work and play,
“Is thy servant a dog, that he should do this thing ?"
DEAR Child, to thee the tale is told
But mark, young David was as thou,
brow. With heart as pure as mountain air He carolld to his fleecy care :