Heart Utterances at Various Periods of a Chequered Life   By: Eliza Paul Gurney (1801-1881)

AT

VARIOUS PERIODS

OF

A CHEQUERED LIFE.

NOT PUBLISHED.

In this book I have scribbled some innocent rhymes, In various moods, and at different times; Some grave and some cheerful, some merry, some sad, Though none may be good , there are none very bad .

Contents.

KINDNESS WRITTEN AT THE DELAWARE WATER GAP WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM ON READING "GIBBON'S ROME" WRITTEN IN A FRIEND'S ALBUM WRITTEN AFTER A VISIT TO THE INSTITUTION FOR THE DEAF AND DUMB OH! TIME, AS IT FLEETS, DOOMS A JOY TO DECAY ON LEAVING PINE COTTAGE THE MORN AND EVE OF LIFE THE EVENING STAR RECOGNITION IN HEAVEN WRITTEN IN L. J.'S ALBUM THE ALPINE HORN THE GATHERING ROUND THE OAK TREE J. H. ON THE DEATH OF HIS WIFE THOU GREAT FIRST CAUSE IN A SEASON OF BEREAVEMENT ON A PACKET OF LETTERS REPLY OF THE MESSENGER BIRD HEAVEN AND EARTH HUSH, HUSH! MY THOUGHTS ARE RESTING CONSOLATION IN BEREAVEMENT SUGGESTED BY THE CONVERSATION OF A BROTHER AND SISTER ON THE DEATH OF MY UNCLE, JOSEPH PAUL SPRING OH, FOR A HOME OF REST! LIFE'S STAGES THE SHEPHERD OF ISRAEL WOODBURN J. & H. C. BACKHOUSE THE PLAGUES OF EGYPT THE LAST LOOK IS TAKEN TO A FRIEND FAREWELL THE LAST DAY THE REUNION ON THE DEATH OF ELIZABETH FRY AND SIR T. F. BUXTON EPHESIANS 4:32 AT A TIME OF DEEP PROVING AS AN EAGLE STIRRETH UP HER NEST WILLIAM FORSTER ALL ALONE

Heart Utterances.

FIRST ATTEMPT AT RHYME.

KINDNESS.

Kindness soothes the bitter anguish, Kindness wipes the falling tear, Kindness cheers us when we languish, Kindness makes a friend more dear.

Kindness turns a pain to pleasure, Kindness softens every woe, Kindness is the greatest treasure, That frail man enjoys below.

Then how can I, so frail a being, Hope thy kindness to repay, My great weakness plainly seeing, Seeing plainer every day.

Oh, I never can repay thee! That I but too plainly see; But I trust thou wilt forgive me, For the love I bear to thee.

1811. E. P. K.

WRITTEN AT THE DELAWARE WATER GAP.

Great and omnipotent that Power must be, That wings the whirlwind and directs the storm, That, by a strong convulsion, severed thee, And wrought this wondrous chasm in thy form.

Man is a dweller, where, in some past day, Thy rock ribbed frame majestically rose; The river rushes on its new made way, And all is life where all was once repose.

Pleased, as I gazed upon thy lofty brow Where Nature seems her loveliest robes to wear, I felt that Pride at such a scene must bow, And own its insignificancy there.

Oh Thou, to whom directing worlds is play, Thy condescension without bounds must be, If man, the frail ephemera of a day, Be graciously regarded still by Thee.

Here, as I ponder on Thy mighty deeds, And marvel at Thy bounteousness to me, While wrapt in solemn awe, my bosom bleeds, Lest recklessly I may have wounded Thee,

Wounded that Being who is fain to call The heavy laden and the wearied home; The dear Redeemer! He who died that all Might to his glorious in gathering come.

1818. E. P. K.

WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM.

Judge we of coming, by the by past, years, And still can Hope, the siren, soothe our fears? Cheated, deceived, our cherished day dreams o'er, We cling the closer, and we trust the more. Oh, who can say there's bliss in the review Of hours, when Hope with fairy fingers drew A magic sketch of "rapture yet to be," A rainbow horizon, a life of glee! The world all bright before us vivid scene Of cloudless sunshine and of fadeless green; A treacherous picture of our coming years, Bright in prospective welcomed but with tears.