THE HOLLY. 211 THE HOLLY. I love this glad season, as yearly it comes, With its cold to our meadows, and mirth to our homes; HE Year doth bind her garland up with thee, Rough product of a hale and healthy tree! Through Winter's sleet she bids thee shine out free Under a sacred name. We give it from the heart! for thus in grief, When life hath fall'n into the yellow leaf, And through its snows we look to find relief ANOTHER YEAR. "Go to now, ye that say, To-day or to-morrow we will go into such a city, and continue there a year, and buy and sell, and get gain: whereas ye know not what shall be on the morrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away."-James iv. 13, 14. ANOTHER year, another year! O! who shall see another year?-- Another year, another year! O! who shall see another year?— CONCLUSION. 215 CONCLUSION. ACQUAINT thyself with God, if thou wouldst taste It yields them; or, recumbent on its brow, From inland regions to the distant main. Man views it, and admires; but rests content With what he views. The landscape has his praise, But not its Author. Unconcerned who formed The paradise he sees, he finds it such, And, such well-pleased to find it, asks no more. |