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TO A FRIEND ON HER BIRTHDAY.

Он, brightly may the sunbeams shine

Upon thy path of life,

This day, each year, return to thee

With richer blessings rife.

May the fair stream of thy young days

All peaceful onward glide,

While Joy's bright blossoms fondly bend

Above its tranquil tide.

And, as the gentle stream flows on,

Beneath God's sunny sky,
Reflecting, in its crystal depths,
The glorious tints on high,

And still glides, joyous, on its way,
Alike through sun or shade,
Dispensing blessings far and wide

Where'er its course is laid

Thus mayst thou, loving and beloved,

Thus, blest and blessing, move, While on thy brow, reflected, beam God's peace and Heaven's love.

All blessings rest on thee and thine;
May sorrow ne'er betide;
Good angels ever guard the home
Where thy beloved abide.

May He who guides the streamlet's course

Be with thee evermore,

Through clouds or sunshine lead thee safe To Heaven's eternal shore.

I AM WITH THEE.

WHEN my head is bowed with sorrow,
And my spirit sinks with fear,
When my heart is very weary,
And no earthly help is near,

In the still night-watches, Father,

When the stars shine calm and clear, And the earth is wrapped in silence deep, Thy voice I seem to hear.

There seemeth an angel-watcher

In every gleaming star,

And through the still night cometh then

That voice from the land afar.

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Then, to my weary spirit,

Peace, like the dew of heaven, Cometh with gentle, whispered words

Of strength to mortals given.

Then upward gazing, Father,

My spirit feels no fear,

For Thine angels' wings o'ershadow me, And I feel that Thou art near.

And I know, whate'er the sorrow,
"Tis Thy hand holds the cup ;
And I know, however rough the path,
Thine arm will bear me up.

Yea, Thou art with me, Father,
With love that ne'er can cease,
Then, safe within Thy sheltering arms,
I lay me down in peace.

"

THE FORSAKEN.

WHEN, oh when will he come again?"

I heard a maiden sigh,

As she raised her sad and tearful face
To the silent azure sky.

And the azure sky looked pitying down
On the lonely weeping maid;

And a soft cloud veiled the summer sun,
As she bowed her weary head;

The gentle flowers stood sadly round,

As though they would soothe her pain;

And the soft breeze sighed, as she wearily moaned, "Oh, when will he come again?"

Once more she raised that lovely face,
And in mournful accents cried,

"He promised me, ere the spring-time came,
That he would be at my side,

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