But, sweet Benevolence, regale me well With those cheap pleasures and light cares of thine, And meek-eyed Piety, be always near, With calm Content, and Gratitude sincere. Rescued from cities, and forensic strife, And walking well with GOD in nature's eye, Blest with fair children, and a faithful wife, Love at my board, and friendship dwelling nigh, And, when I'm called, in rapturous hope to die, Where is each beart-winning way, Thy prattle, and innocent play! And left me alone To weep for them night and day: Yet why should I linger behind! To meet thy blɔw And my sweet babe to find! I know it, I rave half-wild! But who can be calm and mild Is riven apart Over a dear dead child? I know it, I should not speak So boldly, I ought to be meek, And my spirit is wrong,— TRUST. "My times are in thy hand." YET will I trust! in all my fears, Thy mercy guides the ebb and flow To Thee at length. Yes,-welcome pain,-which Thou hast sent, Yes,-farewell blessings,-Thou hast lent, With Thee alone I rest content, For Thou art Heav'n,— |