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THE following little Poems were never intended for public investigation. They are the simple effusions of the heart, and were mostly written from the impulse of the moment, when sympathy was strongly excited, or the heart softened by affliction. It was not the vain desire of appearing as an Authoress, which induced the writer to publish them-far the reverse ; for she shrinks with timidity from the attempt. Neither can she plead the common excuse, importunity of friends :--but motives far more pressing have influenced her, which, she trusts, when known, will be an apology for hera presumption. Should they help to pass away a leisure hour, which might be worse employed than in perusing them; or if haply they should for a moment chase sorrow from the heart of the afflicted, they will not be wholly read in vain. With much diffidence she offers them to a candid public, and hopes charity will cast a veil over their numerous imperfections.





Hail, sacred day of rest,
On which the LORD arose,
Thrice welcome to my heart,
A balm for all my woes.

The busy week has fled, And labour sinks to rest, My weary head reclines On my Redeemer's breasts

Hush ev'ry ruder noise,
While JESUS stoops so low,
To visit mortal worms,
And grace and mercy show.


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