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Like all the loveliest things we know,
If heaven's mild radiance fails.
Where now it plays, the look of care
A smile that sorrow's self can wear,
Then watch it with a mother's eye,
AMIDST a rude cold world, 'tis sweet to feel,
And, if it might, would strew our path with flowers.
But sweeter far it is to feel that He,
To whom that heart in humble faith is given, Is "touched" for both with tenderer sympathy, And, as He can, illumes our path from heaven.
Oh Thou, the fountain of all holy love!
Than even the fairest streams that thence can flow.
TO C. F. D.
As one receiving some rare tender flower,
So now, my first-born daughter, while I fold
Yet, have I seen on childhood's bosom sleeping,
A tender infant, that was safe I knew ;
Fearless of harm, whatever storm may gather; Because above, the eye of faith can see, Guarding us both, a loving, watchful Father.
A Father-and a God! Oh, wondrous blending
To win us and assure, a gentle gleam :
'Mid the dark cloud that shadows us, is pealing,
The bow of promise too its tale of love
In hues of softest beauty is revealing.
As coming years shall bring their wondrous visions, Both to thine outward and thy mental eye,