ORIGINAL POETRY.

Nelson Evening Mail, Volume IV, Issue 171, 4 August 1869, Page 3

ORIGINAL POETRY.

VERSES TO A FRIEND IN TROUBLE. Dear Sie, it was sad news to me To learn affliction's cruel arm Had fallen so heavily on thee As to awake thy friends' alarm. — While sympathy contains the charm To draw the venom from a sting, Thou shalt have mine — and it as warm As were it offered to a Mng. 'Of this, cur transitory life, Full many ills bestrew the pathDisease, dejection, want, and strife, Each one a goodly portion hath. But storms the mountain's brow will soathe, And oaks will bend beneath the blast; Yet-every storm, how loud its wrath, Has soon upon its mission past. 'Think not I merely patience preach, To trifle with thy troubles sore, For all I have within my reach With thee I'll share, if it were more. Mine, truly, is no miser's store, Where golden heaps on heaps are laid; Yet I will silently deplore Thy pride, if thou refuse my aid. 'Tis sad — it is the common doom . Of all who live — to suffer pain ; Betwixt the cradle and the tomb We seek for lasting joys in vain. In breasts where passions live and re'ign, With bodies to diseases prone, How can our souls ihat peace attain Which all desire, but lew have known. 'There's not a day that time sweeps by Into the regions of the past, But hears ten thousand sufferers sigh With human sorrows, sore and vast; Then why shouldst thou be quite downcast? Cheer up, and bravely bear with thine; They cannot surely always last, The hand that made thee is Divine! " Misfortunes oft befall the best, We all must share and suffer pain; Our Uvea were not bestowed for rest. Though many of our toils are vain. Yet' is it right that we complain In wrath at troubles, which we share, "Whilst days of grace to us remain, And we are still a Saviour's care ! ;.Cheer up! and set thy spirit free, Nor darkly brood upon thy woes; /No onebut sympathises thee, Who thee and -thy misfortune knows. * Time will allay the direst throes — The sorest suffering's soonest spent; •Remember God gives help to those Who bravely bear the ills that-sent. '.Seek thou in trusting faith His aid, A contrite heart is ever blest.; "Unto the weary He has said, '• Come ye, and I will give you rest:" Sweet words are these to hearts opprest, 0, let them sooth thy wounded spirit, 'The while I pray thy troubled breast May yet .the sweets of peace inherit. W. PI.