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9

And tho' with grief this heart is rent,
 I'll bless the hand that doth chastise,
Assur'd that all my woes are meant
 As tender mercies in disguise.

Thou, Thou alone canst dry these eyes,
Thou, Thou alone canst hush these sighs;
'Tis only Thou canst ease this troubled breast,
And bid this wounded spirit hope for rest.

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TO A BELOVED SISTER, ON HER BIRTH-DAY.

Accept, dear Catherine, of this simple lay,
Which hails thy happy natal day;