Anti-slavery bugle. [volume] (New-Lisbon, Ohio) 1845-1861, 1858-05-15
Misteilonepus
For we Anti-slsvery Bugle.
LETTER TO A FRIEND.
BY c. r. Colby.

The quiet hours Of Sabbath day
Mid ceres Of earth have sped away
My precious babes demand my care,
And keep me from the House OF Prayer.
And often when the Sabbaths come
The preciou hours are spent at home,
Restless childhood to restrain
And save from every needless pain.
Yet not in vain 10 us were given
These types Of innocence and Heaven
They teach us oft with g~uileless art,
The simple virtues of tho heart,
The calm repOse Of perfect lore,
That doubt or danger cannot move.
No fear disturbs their peaceful rest
When pillowed on a mothers breast
Or, if perchance n frightfLl dream
Breaks their slumber with a scream,
Her voice with softest tone
Bids the phantom danger gone.
Aud smiles illume the rosy cheek,
An Angels presence to bespeak.-
Thus would my heart securely rest
With childlike faith upon His breast,
Who guides tho tempest and the storm,
And in his wisdom made the worm.
would, but cannot; doubts arise
As clouds enshroud the faircst skies,
Yet DER your path | may not throw
Ny shddo,r May you never know,
A doubt or fear. but ever find
Calm repose and peace Of mind.
And when the day of life is past
Share the joys of Heaven at last,
And welcome in that happy land,
Each member of your household band,
Each fair child whose early youth,
You've guided in the way Of truth,
And the manly heart in which your "
Has found a resting place and home.
Twilight comes with 9uickning pace,
1avests the scene in softer grace,
And from the glowing western sky,
The gorgeous tints of sunse. die;
The gold and red melt into grey
And shadows fit a, shadows may,
Where golden sunlight used to play,
And all was fair and bright and gay.
Yet through the deepening gloom Of night
Stars beam out with purer light.
Thus Ger the heart in one dark hour,
May sorrow fall with blighting power.
And earth's fair scenes we loved before
Fail TO charm or please us more;
Whispering winds with dirgc like strain
Sigh in mournful cadence Ger the plain,
And to our view q pail Of gloom,
Rests Ger all the opening bloom,
And sadness blends with every lay
That ectos 'mong the groves of May,
Thus have I felt when lovely spring
Her fairy wreath around me filings
And flowers spring up on every sod
By natures viewless Author trod-
I've wondered, in this wondrous plan.
EARTH has no spring for dying man?
The fields resumed their robes Of green,
With opening buds embroidered round
And all the wide spread wastes of air,
Are vocal now with joyous sound;
Natures choir ct tinny threats
Swell anew their sweetest notes
And every flower that decks the plain,
Or bushes in the lowly vale,
Breathes sweetness on the air
And perfumes every passing gale.
Ger hidden springs and silent streams
The moon with silvery radiance CLEANS
And Ger the cold and silent grave
Grass and flowers in beauty wave;
But TO the form that rests beneath
Returns no more the parted breath
The pulseless heart shall feel no more
The thrill of love or friendships power.
Branch in my arms, and by my side
Ny clinging Vne went forth at e%ventids,
To run a race" among the flowers wild,
Dear to the heart of every artless child.
With bounding step we swiftly 6ew,
Along the meadow wet with dew. =
We passed the violet in our walk
Nodding Ger its lowly stalk
And paused to think how passing fair
IL smiled amid his golden hair,
And sheds its fragrance DER the tomb,
Where sleeps my .tfrst.born in his bloom.
CHERRY VALLEY May 9th, 1856.