Another scene, and melancholy too;
The bridegroom widowed, ere he pleasure knew;
His hopes of bliss had soared unduly high,
And little dreamt he there was danger nigh;
But see! the throes of death his bride arrest,
The barbed arrow strikes her beating breast:
His hands have touched the cup, but ere he sips,
The wine is hurried from his burning lips.
Such are the sorrows which around I find,
Diverse, and manifold as human kind.
Let these suffice my gratitude to fire,
And with unfeigned praise my tongue inspire.
That I, so undeserving, still possess
Unnumber'd mercies, through redeeming grace.
Let each vicissitude my soul prepare,
By patience here, for endless glory there;
Where sickness ceases, and where sorrows end,
Where no misfortune can the bliss suspend;
Where death is banished, for the curse is o'er,
And love unrivall'd reigns for evermore.
"I have greater pleasure in visiting the sick, and the poor, than
in visiting those who, as far as this world is concerned, are better
circumstanced; in the former case, my object is simply to do or get
good, but in the latter, I find it is in danger of being mixed
with other motives. Christ is the end as well as the source of my
happiness. Oh! to be saved in every word and thought, this is what my
soul covets. I feel I am getting firmer hold of Christ.--I have been
tempted to a spirit of fretfulness and ill-nature; praise the Lord for
the victory. I was enabled to come to him for help, and power; and by
ejaculatory prayer, found sweet access to the Throne.
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