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THERE are clouds that must o'ershade us,

There are griefs that all must know, There are sorrows that have made us

Feel the tide of human woe; But the deepest, darkest sorrow,

Though it sear the heart a while, Hope's cheering ray may borrow

From a mother's welcome smile.

There are days in youth that greet us

With a ray too bright to last, There are cares of age to meet us

When those sunny days are past ; But the past scenes hover o'er us,

And give back the heart a while, All that memory can restore us

In a mother's welcome smile.

l'here are scenes and sunny places

On which feeling loves to dwell, 'There are many happy faces

Who have known and loved us well ; But ’mid joy or ’mid dejection,

There is nothing can beguile, That can show the fond affection

Of a mother's welcome smile.




“ Ask what thou wilt,” said a fairy voice,

« Ask what thou wilt of me ;
Of all on earth thou canst have thy choice,

On land or on the sea.
I have the power rich gifts to bestow,

And what thou wilt I'll grant;
But only once, I would have thee know,

Can I supply thy want."

Then I sat me down and pondered long,

Of what the gift should be,
Which the fairy voice had kindly said

Should be given but once to me.
I will not ask that wealth, or fame,

Should a worthless chaplet twine
Around my brow, or adorn my name ;

Nor that beauty should be mine.

For these are transient as the dew

Before the burning sun;
And fade as quickly from the view,

Ere morning is begun.
“ In none of these,” my heart replied,

“ Would the height of happiness be ;
True love and a happy home," I cried,

“ Is all I ask of thee."


THEY tell me there's a fairer home,

A better, purer sphere than this, Where pleasures all immortal bloom,

A lasting home of changeless bliss.

They tell me there's a higher home,

Far from this scene of gloomy fear, Where golden flowers celestial bloom,

Where skies are fair and always clear.

They tell me there's a home of peace,

A fadeless home of glory bright, Unchanging and forever new,

'Mid shining orbs and worlds of light.

They tell me there's a home of rest,

In mansions that are reared above, Where hearts beat true, where mourners find

A heavenly balm of glorious love.

'They tell me of the beauties there,

Rich beauties that will charm the soul, Of countless glories deep and true,

Where streams of pleasure ceaseless roll.

The fount of joy is ever full;

There death will draw no parting tears ; But rills of life roll on and on,

Through all the never-ending years.

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Far, far above earth's low deceit,

Beyond the wilds of grief and care, My home, my home, my heavenly home,

'Mid shining orbs, 'tis there ! 'tis there!


WOMAN, dear woman, in whose name

Wife, sister, mother meet,
Thine is the heart by earliest claim,

And thine its latest beat.
In thee the angel-virtues shine ;

An angel form to thee is given:
Then be an angel's office thine,

And lead the soul to heaven.

From thee we draw our infant strength ;

Thou art our childhood's friend;
And when the man unfolds at length,

On thee his hopes depend;
For round the heart thy power hath spun

A thousand dear, mysterious ties :
Then take the heart thy charms have won,

And nurse it for the skies.


I LIKE the man who will maintain

A dignity and grace; Who can be social when there's need,

And always knows his place.

I love the man whose blandest smile

Is seen at home, “sweet home,” Who, when his daily task is o'er,

Has no desire to roam.

I like the man whose piercing glance

Will make the guilty start, As though he had the power to search

His very inmost heart.

I like the man whose generous soul

Pities the orphan's woe; Who never lets the needy one

Unaided from him go.

I'd have him generous, good, and just,

As God made man to be ; The noblest work below the sun

Is such a one as he.

And now I've told you whom I like,

you may think the same; Should Mr. Such-a-one come along,

Then I would change my name.

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