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288 O! God of heaven, to Thee I bow! And raise by night my humble strain, The voice of my consuming pain. Thee, also, friendly Moon! I hail; 1 always loved thee dear: Thou, Queen of heaven! me ne'er didst fail, In fortunes fair or drear, To guide, to counsel, and to cheer: Thou know'st how oft, to enjoy thy ray, I chide the blaze and heat of day. Oft seated on the wide sea- shore, Whose waves reflected thee, To muse alone, thou smiling o'er, I pass'd the night hours free; And 'midst my clouded hopes to see Thy face serene, I found relief, In sweet complaint to pour my grief. For throbs, alas! my breast with pain, Consumption's wounds to bear; And pales my cheek, as thou must wane Beneath the morning's glare. When I shall sink, grant this my prayer, That thy light ne'er to shine defer, On thy friend's humble sepulchre.