Then let me turn, and return too,
For I have wandered from my text,--
Well, Mr. Steele, how do you do?
I hope you are not vexed.

'Tis pleasant in our riper years
To have our children come
And bring their children--little dears,
They make it seem like home.

An old man's children are his crown,
And you may well be proud
When from your throne you just look down
Upon this hopeful crowd.

But now my neighbors dear, adieu;
"The best of friends must part;"
I'll often kindly think of you,
And treasure each one in my heart;

And if we never meet again
On this poor frozen clod,
O! may we meet to part no more
Around the throne of God.



TO MARY.