File:The Philopoena- or, Friendship's offering; a gift for all seasons (1854) (14782605335).jpg

Identifier: philopoenaorfrie00newy (find matches)
Title: The Philopoena: or, Friendship's offering ; a gift for all seasons
Year: 1854 (1850s)
Authors:
Subjects: Gift books
Publisher: New-York, J. Levison
Contributing Library: Robarts - University of Toronto
Digitizing Sponsor: University of Toronto

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sk pallid Guiltand the quenchless fires of Remorse. Ask red-handed Murder as it prowls at midnight, whileAvarice and Revenge hold the death-torch and thedasrorer. Go forth ye philanthrophist, to your high des-tiny, the melioration of humanity ; plant the sun-ny and grassy spots in the wilderness; let youilight shine on the worlds dark gloom, and itsgolden beams tinge the clouds of misery withhopes radiant and gladsome smile. Be feet tothe lame, eyes to the blind, joy and peace tobruised and desponding hearts. Smooth the bedof death, plead the widows cause, and protectthe fatherless and the orphan. Thus shall ye beobedient and operative instruments in the hand of•the God of the spirits of all flesh, in rolling onthe eventful and glorious era when the pearlygates of truth, righteousness, and felicity, shallbe opened to redeemed humanity, and they shallwalk unharmed, sanctified, and saved, To the bright palace of the king of day,And rival angels in the praise of heaven. \e\v York, i »
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n^-S:i^ Ti.TLi2^2) mQTMm:K. 85 THE BLIND MOTHER. Mother, loved mother, thou art sightless now !— Thou canst not gaze,As once, with rapture on the heavens deep glow,Or earths green beauties; yet on thy aged brow A radiance plays,That seemeth not of earth, whose glory-raysGive thee a loveliness youth cannot know. As the ripe fruit in autumn fairer seems Than when the springPuts forth her tender buds, or summers beamsSmiled on the swelling germ ; so, tho youths dreams No more shall bringJoy to thy heart, still fairer flowers shall springAlong the borders of lifes failing streams. Mother, thourt weary ; sit thee here and rest Beneath this tree.And tell me why that tear-drop, half suppressd,That trembles in thine eye: art thou distressd That infancyAnd youths unsullied joyousness and gleeNo more may be thy bosoms smiling guests 1 S6 Does some sad thought come oer thee from the tomK That gives thee pain,And overspreads thy furrowed brow with gloom )Ah ! cease those fond regrets ; soon—v

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