Betimes in the morning the prize we pursue,
By the pale lamp of midnight we're seeking it too;
At all times and seasons, this _same fancied good_
Repels our advances, yet still is pursued,
Depriving us oft, of rest needful, and food.
But there's a pearl of great price, whose worth is untold,
It can never he purchased with silver or gold;
Great peace it confers upon all to whom given,
Ever cheering their pathway, and pointing to heaven.
Look not to this world for a prize of such worth,
Or hope _that_ to obtain from this perishing earth
Whose essence is spiritual, and heavenly its birth.

Weston, June 6, 1862.




ACROSTIC.


Even now I seem to see thee,
Lovely boy, with thy sweet smile,
Bright and beautiful as when
Reading that holy book, the while
I listened to thee, little dreaming,
Docile, gentle, pleasant child,
God who gave, _so soon would take thee_,
Even thee, so _sweet_, so _mild_.
But how merciful in chastening