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    Respectfully dedicated to WM. Peabody, Scottsville, N. Y.HHHH 89.1

    I met an aged pilgrim on the way,
    Who bowed beneath the heavy weight of years;
    But yet on whose frail tenement of clay,
    Were lightly traced their cares and toils and fears.
    HHHH 89.2

    Think not life’s common ills did not befall;
    For light and shade its varied textures show:
    Think not that he, unlike the lot of all,
    Could drain its cup, unmixed with dregs of woe.
    HHHH 89.3

    With righteous thoughts and deeds each day was rife,
    That paved with peace the rugged path he trod,
    In humble mien, apart from scenes of strife-
    The way that leads to glory and to God.
    HHHH 89.4

    Desires, above his needs, were all denied,
    His will, subdued, to Heaven’s decrees resigned;
    Nor wished for more than this-to be supplied
    With what a gracious Providence designed.
    HHHH 89.5

    In faith his prayers ascended to the throne,
    That blessings, as were best, he might receive;
    And, filled with gratitude for mercies shown,
    His thanks like incense rose, at morn and eve.
    HHHH 89.6

    The glow of feelings true, his visage wore,
    Which only overflow the soul sincere.
    To Want gave freely of his ample store,
    To Sorrow’s voice, the sympathetic tear.
    HHHH 90.1

    His words, with meaning fraught, were just and kind,
    That cheered the listening ear, in accents mild.
    Of knowledge pure, of lofty aim in mind,
    In heart as meek and lowly as a child.
    HHHH 90.2

    The Truth he scattered with unsparing hand,
    Amid the crowd, or by the wayside cast-
    Its fruit, a harvest rich of souls may stand
    Arrayed to join the heavenly throng at last.
    HHHH 90.3

    He sought not for applause, or earth’s renown,
    Nor yet to bask in pleasure’s smiling ray;
    But still, undaunted, dared the world’s cold frown,
    For joy it could not give not take away.
    HHHH 90.4

    This honor most he craved: his name enrolled
    On the immortal list, inscribed above,
    With prophets, martyrs, holy men of old,
    Who to their Master proved their deathless love.
    HHHH 90.5

    The Blessed Hope burned bright within his breast,
    Whence sweetest consolations ever spring;
    Though weary here, there yet remains a rest,
    Though now a captive, soon he’ll be a king.
    HHHH 90.6

    This lesson, deep, experience had taught;
    I deemed of priceless worth, if understood:
    For wisdom it contained, for bliss it brought-
    Content with life, and living to do good.
    HHHH 91.1

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