EPOCH III.

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THERES JOY AND mourning wondrously entwined

In all that’s mortal: sometimes the same breeze

That bringeth rest into one weary mind

Heralds another’s sorer agonies;

Sometimes the hour that sees one battle end

Beholds as sad a time of strife begin;

And sometimes, hearts rejoicing as they win

Themselves the victory, tremble for a friend.

Ah me! how vain to think that mortal ken

Can ever, with love-cleared vision, judge aright.

Doth danger dwell alone ‘mong stranger men,

Or safety aye ‘neath home’s protecting light?

Shield us, our Father! in our every lot

Thou blendest joy and grief that we forget thee not.