And look! for now again the scene is changed;
A group before that rustic altar ranged,
With bended knee the throne of grace implore,
On infant heads its showers of love to pour;
That infant tongues may lisp the praise of God,
To guide their feet in paths by Jesus trod.
Sure, angels hallow scenes like this below,
And holy spirits at that altar bow,
Like winged messengers from Heaven, to bear
These offerings, and ever guard them there,
That every bud of promise reared below,
May bloom in Heaven, and to perfection grow.
But fast in scenes like this the day is spent;
Again toward home their weary steps are bent.
Weary with pleasure, they reluctant go,
Once more the toils and cares of earth to know:
But purified, and strengthened for the strife
Of labor, and the busy scenes of life;
While the remembrance of those happy hours
Shall deck the barren path of toil with flowers;
And praying each that as the years roll on,
Laden with pleasures soon forever gone,
Each year shall bring but added virtues forth,
And leave behind the impress of their worth;
Till every heart to innocence be tuned,
Nor sinful pleasures ever dare intrude,
To mar the image God has made and blest,
With means of pleasure, happiness and rest;
That all may find, in holy joys and pure,
Relief from care, for every sorrow cure;
And live to be in holy pleasures blest,
Till earthly toil is changed for heavenly rest.
Pages:
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126