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Where?—but alas! on earth how vain
To seek a cure for grief:
Yet One the helpless will sustain;
Thy God will give relief

Yes, He to whom thy soul shall rise,
And be for ever blest,
Will look in pity from the skies,
And give thy children rest[1]

  1. [He died on the 10th of November, 1833; and it is but a just tribute to the memory of a good man, to say, that the spot where he lived more than thirty years, and the grave in which he lies buried, are consecrated in the affections of his family and of his neighbours. Before he went to his rest, he had purchased, with the small remnant of his property, a cottage about four miles from Newport, and nearly as far from his former residence by the sea-side. Those who approach this home of suffering will be surprised and pleased by the air of neatness, and even of cheerfulness, which pervades the humble tenement. Here they may behold one of the brightest triumphs of piety over the sorrows so thickly strewn in the vale of tears, through which this gifted female has been called to pass. They will ascend the narrow staircase that leads to Cynthia's quiet chamber. There they will find a being, whose sufferings words cannot describe, looking to her God calmly, and with a resignation which seems almost to have imparted its peaceful influence to the silent air that surrounds the lowly dwelling. It was in this chamber that she lay helpless, while those of the household, whose health and reason permitted, were assembled around the bed-side of the dying man, to receive his last farewell. Again and again she had heard the sad intelligence, that her father, who had for a long period of years