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160 SONGS FROM THE ST. LAWRENCE.
Or if the Autumn zephyr sing
A requiem o'er my tomb; I shall not heed the transient mirth,
In which the gay delight; Nor shall I pause to see if earth
Looks beautiful and bright.
I then shall pass beyond the cares
Of this inconstant life— Beyond its sorrows and its snares,
Its turmoil and its strife. Then, then pale Autumn, then thy breath,
Shall never reach me more ; For clouds of sorrow, pain, and death
O'ershadow not that shore.
WHAT IS SUBMISSION?
May we not feel the chast'ning rod, And yet be reconcil'd to God ?
Or, must the stricken heart In a deep, pulseless stupor lie, And know no grief, and heave no sigh,
Nor writhe beneath the smart ?
" Be calm," they say, " Be reconcil'd, " Nor weep in agony so wild— " 'Tis wrong, 'tis wrong to mourn!"