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138 SONGS FROM THE ST. LAWRENCE.
THE YOUNG DISCIPLE.
She walk'd with even tread Through the wild mazes' of a reckless world; Beauty and youth were circling round her head,
And Hope her flag unfurl'd.
She dwelt among the gay, Among a joyous and a thoughtless crowd; And she was bright and beautiful as they, Though not of beauty proud.
Her modest, humble mien Show'd that a spirit lowly, meek was hers; Her brow was as the morn still and serene,
Ere the first zephyr stirs.
0! she had cast her heart, With all its fulness, on the Saviour's breast, . And found the peace Heaven can alone impart, A sure and tranquil rest.
Pale sickness came at last, And she, though lovely, faded day by day, As thou hast seen a bright cloud, hurrying past,
Slowly dissolve away.
They laid her down to rest. One evening, with the cold drops on her brow, And gather'd round her as the struggling breath
Came fitful, faint, and slow.