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the marriage vow.
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Should fortune frown on your defenceless head,
Should storms o'ertake your barque on life's dark sea;
Fierce tempests rend the sail so gayly spread,
When Hope her syren strain sang joyously—
Will ye look up, though clouds your sky o'ercast,
And say, "together we will bide the blast?"

Age with its silvery locks comes stealing on,
And brings the tottering step, the furrowed cheek,
The eye from whence each lustrous gleam hath gone,
And the pale lip, with accents low and weak—
Will ye then think upon your life's gay prime,
And smiling, bid Love triumph over Time?

Speak it not lightly—0 beware, beware!
'Tis no vain promise, no unmeaning word—
Lo, men and angels list the faith ye swear,
And by the High and Holy One 'tis heard:
O then kneel humbly at his altar now,
And pray for grace to keep your marriage vow.