Part 2 — LOST TREASURES.

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BY P. D. T.

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I am coming, I am coming, when this fitful dream is o’er,

To meet you, my beloved ones, on that immortal shore,

Where pain and parting are unknown, and where the ransomed blest

Shall welcome treasures left on earth, to Heaven’s eternal rest.

I am with you, I am with you, in the visions of the night,

I feel each warm hand pressing mine, I meet each eye of light.

Oh these are precious seasons! they bring you back to me,

But morning dawns, and with it comes the sad reality.

I dare not trust my thoughts to dwell on blessings that were mine,

Or, “hoping against hope,” believe one ray of joy can shine

Across my path, so dreary now, that late was bright and gay,

But, meteor-like, hath left more dark the track which marked its way.

Yet I feel that thou art near me! my guardian angels thou,

Who fain would chase all sorrow and sadness from my brow.

For thou hadst strewn my pathway so thick with thornless flowers,

I quite forgot that Death could come to revel in our bowers.

But now, I’m oh so lonely! my “household gods” are gone,

And though my path’s a dreary one, I still must journey on.

Yet Faith steps forth and whispers—Time flies, look up and see,

For in his wake swift follows on a blessed eternity.