Poor Hagar, when her bottle fail'd, Sat down distress'd, and cry'd ; But hope and joy again prevail'd, When she the well desery'd. Thus creature comforts quickly die, The water flowing from the cross, Here let us drink, and drink again, Till by the pow'r of faith, We joy in trouble, smile at pain, 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, The virtues of this water feel, Still more from day to day. May he, who join'd your hearts below, And guard you thro' this world of woe, And when before his throne of grace, Let me have in your thoughts a place; January 16, 1801. J. N. EPITAPH ON MISS R's GOLDFINCH. JUST here I have interr'd When Death may strike his blow. Where now his artless lay, ΤΟ Α LADY ON HER BIRTH-DAY, WRITTEN ON MY OWN. LIKE rising ground a new birth-day, We hitherto have come; And helps us to look forward too, Behind us, rais'd from year to year, Of benefits bestow'd. Before us, Zion's gate is seen, What hills, or dales, may lie between, To us is yet unknown; But we may trust the Lord our friend, He ne'er forsakes his own. Tho' many changes we have past, Our gourds must fade, our friends must die, We cannot be forgot. On his kind care may we repose, Our frame, our fears, our wants, he knows; A And says, "I will provide, "Tho' foes surround and press you hard, Depend on me to be your guard, And unto death, your guide." Assist us Lord, with stedfast aim, Till flesh and heart shall fail; Till all our toils and sorrows end, And we, at thy soft call, ascend To thee, within the vail! There many, whom we lov'd below, We hope with them, ere long, to meet, For ever-evermore.. 1 |