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And many a prayer and blessing breathe for thee,
Earth's dearest treasure,—Heaven's best gift to me!
Another year has swiftly glided by,
And though dark clouds awhile have dimmed our sky,
Yet countless blessings, mercies ever new,
Have dropped unceasing as the morning dew;
And love's calm sunshine, with unfailing power,
Has cheered the gloomiest day, the darkest hour:
And say, Beloved, can I now recall
Thy love unwearied, patience bearing all,
Thy tender care, thy firm but gentle hand,
That ever strives to lead but not command,
Nor feel respect, affection, deeper grown,
With every year that makes thy worth more known,
And strive with earnest heart thy toils to share,
To soothe thy griefs, and lighten every care?
Earth's dearest treasure,—Heaven's best gift to me!
Another year has swiftly glided by,
And though dark clouds awhile have dimmed our sky,
Yet countless blessings, mercies ever new,
Have dropped unceasing as the morning dew;
And love's calm sunshine, with unfailing power,
Has cheered the gloomiest day, the darkest hour:
And say, Beloved, can I now recall
Thy love unwearied, patience bearing all,
Thy tender care, thy firm but gentle hand,
That ever strives to lead but not command,
Nor feel respect, affection, deeper grown,
With every year that makes thy worth more known,
And strive with earnest heart thy toils to share,
To soothe thy griefs, and lighten every care?
God's best and choicest blessings rest on thee,
Beloved Husband! may'st thou live to see
Our infant darlings thy best treasures prove,
Thy stay on earth, thy crown of hope above!
And every year that passes o'er our home,
Find it more blest—us nearer that to come,—
Treading through sunlit calm or stormy blast,
The narrow path that leads to rest at last.
Beloved Husband! may'st thou live to see
Our infant darlings thy best treasures prove,
Thy stay on earth, thy crown of hope above!
And every year that passes o'er our home,
Find it more blest—us nearer that to come,—
Treading through sunlit calm or stormy blast,
The narrow path that leads to rest at last.
Unheeded now my lyre has slumbered long,
And though but faint and low its wakening song,
Thou, dearest, wilt not scorn the faltering lay,
That strives to duly greet thy natal day;
Thou wilt accept the wild wreath wet with dew,
That tells of love unfeigned, of feelings warm and true!
And though but faint and low its wakening song,
Thou, dearest, wilt not scorn the faltering lay,
That strives to duly greet thy natal day;
Thou wilt accept the wild wreath wet with dew,
That tells of love unfeigned, of feelings warm and true!
E.
October 6, 1846.
