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May dear Miss S , and dear Miss N
For this I often pray,
Still more from day to day.
May he, who join'd your hearts below,
Still guide them as his own,
To stand before his throne.
And when before his throne of grace,
Your hearts in pray'r are free,
Dear children, pray for me!
January 16, 1801.
JUST here I have interr'd
LADY ON HER BIRTH-DAY,
WRITTEN ON MY OWN.
LIKE rising ground a new birth-day,
We hitherto have come;
Before we reach our home.
Behind us, rais'd from year to year,
Like mile-stones on the road;
Of benefits bestow'd.
Before us, Zion's gate is seen,
To us is yet unknown;
He ne'er forsakes his own.
Tho' many changes we have past,
Yet Jesus changes not!
We cannot be forgot.
On his kind care may we repose,
And says, “ I will provide,
And unto death, your guide.”
Assist us Lord, with stedfast aim,
Till flesh and heart shall fail ;
To thee, within the vail !
There many, whom we lov'd below,
And wonder, and adore ;
. ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF HER BIRTH-DAY.
FLIRTILLA, born to dress and dance,
To catch the roving eye,
A trilling butterfly;
I see more cause to weep
And laugh, and eat, and sleep.
Unmindful of the gracious pow'r,
Who gave her life and breath, She wastes in folly every hour,
Nor thinks at all of death, Her wishes all confin'd to earth,
Sad scene of sin and thrall, I cannot celebrate her birth,
Why was she born at all.