Forget not, despise not
Thy far native scene.
Lo! years leave their burdens
And Time draws his dart,
Think of me, pray for me,
Child of my heart.
Good angels attend thee,
Since forth thou must go,
Thou last of the loves
That is left me below;
Where'er thou shalt rest thee,
Where'er thou may'st roam,
God's blessing be with thee
Till Heaven is thy home.
Friendship, that solace of the soul, has been most liberally accorded me. It has sprung up where I had no reason to expect, in the clefts of the rock, by the wayside, among strangers, and in foreign lands. I thank Him, who disposeth as He will all the hearts that He hath made, for this liberal infusion of its balm-drops in my cup of life.
Some of my former pupils have been to me as daughters. They have confided to me their concerns, and sought my counsel even when their fair locks were sprinkled with gray. Sometimes their children have partaken of this partiality. Though friendship is not necessarily hereditary, I have seen delightful instances of its transmission.
