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There is a soft, a downy bed,

'Tis fair as breath of even, A couch for weary mortals spread, Where they may rest the aching head,

And find repose—in Heaven !

There, Faith lifts up the tearful eye,

The heart with anguish riven, And views the tempest passing by, The evening shadows quickly fly, And all's serene in Heaven.

There, fragrant flowers, eternal bloom,

And joys supreme are given, There, rays divine disperse the gloom— Beyond the confines of the tomb Appears the dawn of Heaven!

Times of action make princes into peasants, and boors into barons. All families have sprung from some one mean man : and it is well if they have never degenerated from his virtue who raised them first from obscurity.

Walter Scott

O Thou ! whose pow'r o'er moving worlds presides Whose voice created, and whose mercy guides; On darkling man in pure effulgence shine, And cheer the clouded mind with light divine;