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Poor Hagar, when her bottle fail'd,
Sat down distress'd, and cry'd; But hope and joy again prevaild,
When she the well desery’d.
Thus creature comforts quickly die,
Then how our sorrows swell, Till
grace descending from on high, Reveals the Saviour's well.
The water flowing from the cross,
From age to age, is found A rich amends for every loss,
A balm for every wound. .
Here let us drink, and drink again,
Till by the pow'r of faith,
And triumph over death.
Tho' all our bottles empty prove,
And empty ev'ry urn,
We need not greatly mourn.
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.
J. N. EPITAPH
ON NISS R's GOLDFINCH.
JUST here I have interr'd
LADY ON HER BIRTH-DAY,
WRITTEN ON MY OWN.
LIKE rising ground a new birth-elay,
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
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;