cold, and a shudder steals over me. O thou great Mediator of mankind,
intercede for me before thy Father's throne, that ere it is
everlastingly too late my unworthy name may be written in the Lamb's
book of life. (_July_ 5, 1852.)




THOUGHTS ON DEATH.


A bride but yesterday--all hope and love,--
Flowers at her feet and cloudless skies above,
Bright buds of promise twining round her brow,
Approach--approach and gaze upon her now!
Come not in festal robes as once ye came,
The bride is here but she is not the same
As when ye saw her to the altar led,
And called down blessings on her fair young head.
The cheek is pale that with the rose could vie,
There is no lustre in that rayless eye,
Upon those pallid lips there is no breath,
And she alas is now the bride of Death!
Henceforth what soul will ever dare to trust
In things that crumble at a breath to dust?
And who would dream of earthly joy and bliss
Taught by a lesson terrible as this?

Short-sighted mortal hastening to the tomb,
Gaze on the scene, and realize thy doom!