Mortal, shrink not; in God rejoice!
He is Wisdom, Power and Love.
'Tis he ordains the rolling year;--
Seasons and changes are his own;
Then, mortal, live in God's own fear;--
One struggle, and the year was gone,
But Peace had stolen o'er my breast;
And as I gazed I shed a tear,--
And grateful for the last behest,
I bless'd the just departed year.
Consumption.
The whirlwind in its fury depopulates a district, or a small tract of
land over which it passes perhaps once in a century--the earthquake
rumbles through the hidden recesses of the earth, and here and there
the yawning cavern swallows the ill-fated inhabitants that dwell upon
its surface; the lightning's stroke blasts in a moment, and cuts the
threads of life without any warning; and the steam engine destroy
their thousands in a year; and the winds and the waves conspire to
people the dark caves of ocean with the dead. These, and a thousand
other avenues, lead to death, bearing terror in their course, and
heralding their approach by terrific sounds.
But there is an insiduous foe, silent in its progress, sapping first
the secret springs of life, but yet diffusing hopefulness, ever
whispering in syren voice, of coming health and happiness, often
adding a deeper crimson to the cheek and a brighter lustre to the eye.
It feeds alike on all; the infant in its innocence; childhood in its
playfulness; youth in its beauty; manhood in his usefulness, and old
age in its decrepitude.
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