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82 SONGS FROM THE ST. LAWRENCE.
Thine offering of incense, then, To Heaven shall sweetly rise;
For the humble and contrite heart Our God will not despise.
When the sun, declining,
Whispers his adieu; When the stars are shining
On yon scroll of blue ; When the breezes whisper
Softly round thy way; At the hour of vesper,
0, remember me!
TO A DYING DDPENITENT.
Eternity—upon its fearful verge,
With trembling spirit, thou art lying now;
Ready to plunge into .the rolling surge
Which dashes its cold spray-drops on thy brow!
Tremendous thought! that life's last, closing hour
Is flitting past thee with a rapid flight; That Hope's declining star may never pour
Upon thy way again its trembling light!