Far from the spot that gave me birth,
I mournfully yet fondly gaze,
Through fancy's light, on faded mirth
And happy scenes of other days--
The short-lived pleasures of the past,
Which only were too sweet to last.
My childhood, youth, and early friends
Have passed away, like childish tears;
And now, reflection only tends
To throw me back on by-gone years,
And paint those early scenes which seem
To haunt me like a lover's dream.
What tho' I find my lonely track
Full oft with thorny cares bestrewed,
Why should I murmur or look back
On scenes that should no more be viewed,
Or swell my heart with longing pain,
Or hopes of happiness, in vain?
The past can give no pleasure now,
Nor can the future cheer my breast,
Unless I in submission bow
To my Redeemer's high behest.
So, now, supported by my Lord,
I'll seek my pleasures in His word.
