"
Gracious Redeemer we go at thy bidding,
Gladly encountering peril and loss;
Take us--ourselves to thy work we are giving,
Giveus--'tis more than we merit--_thy cross!_
AT HOME
I thought it pleasant when a manly sire
Weary of foreign travel, at the door
Of his own cottage left his dusty staff,
And entering in, sat down with those he loved
Beside the hearth of home;--and pleasant, too,
When a fond mother, absent for a day,
At eve returning, from the sunset hill
That overlooked her cot, descried her boys
Flying with joyous feet along the path
To greet her coming; and, with clasping hands
Of baby welcome, lead her through the gate
Of her sweet home.
Pleasant I deemed it, too,
When a young man, a wanderer for years
From those he loved, at length sat down again
With sire and mother in the twilight hour
At home;--and when a gentle daughter, long
From mother's kiss and father's blessing far,
Heard once again their ne'er forgotten tones
Giving her joyous welcome home again,
I felt that life had few such joys as that.
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