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This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 291 pages of information about Town and Country; or, life at home and abroad, without and within us.
by;
    Not a star is seen this night,—­
    God, preserve the beacon-light! 
    Lo! a man whom age doth bow
    Wanders up the pathway now;
    Wistfully his eye he turns
    To the light that dimly burns;
    And, as it less glow doth shed,
    Quicker, quicker is his tread;
    And he prays that through the night
    God may keep the beacon-light. 
    Far below him, rocks and waves
    Mark the place of others’ graves;
    Other travellers, who, like him,
    Saw the beacon-light burn dim. 
    But they trusted in their strength
    To attain the goal at length;—­
    This old traveller prays, to-night,
    “God, preserve the beacon-light!”
    Fainter, fainter is its ray,—­
    Shall its last gleam pass away? 
    Shall it be extinguished quite? 
    Shall it burn, though not as bright? 
    Fervently goes up his prayer;
    Patiently he waiteth there,
    Trusting Him who doeth right
    To preserve the beacon-light. 
    Look you now! the light hath burst
    Brighter than it was at first;
    Now with ten-fold radiance glows,
    And the traveller homeward goes. 
    As the clouds grow darker o’er him,
    Brighter grows the light before him;
    God, who doeth all things right,
    Hath preserved the beacon-light. 
    Thus upon the path we tread
    God a guiding light hath shed;
    Though at times our hearts are weary,
    Though the path we tread is dreary,
    Though the beacon’s lingering ray
    Seems as if ’t would pass away,—­
    Be our prayer, through all the night,
    “God, preserve the beacon-light!”
    Threatening clouds may gather o’er us,
    Countless dangers rise before us: 
    If in God we seek for strength,
    He will succor us at length: 
    He his holy light will send,
    To conduct us to the end. 
    Trust thy God, through day and night,
    He’ll preserve thy beacon-light.

BEAR UP.

    Bear up, bear up, though Poverty may press thee,
        There’s not a flower that’s crushed that does not shed,
    While bowing low, its fragrance forth to bless thee,
        At times, more sweet than when it raised its head;

       When sunlight gathered round it,

       When dews of even crowned it,
    By nature nursed, and watched, and from its bounty fed
    Bear up, bear up!  O, never yield nor falter! 
        God reigneth ever, merciful and just;
    If thou despairest, go thou to his altar,
        Rest on his arm, and in his promise trust.

       There Hope, bright Hope, will meet thee;

       There Joy, bright Joy, shall greet thee;
    And thou shalt rise to thrones on high from out the dust.

A WELCOME SONG TO SPRING.

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