html.skin-theme-clientpref-night @media(prefers-color-scheme:dark){html.skin-theme-clientpref-os }OST thou not feel, dear Love, how every day
That in our own old home glides swift_ away,
Whate'er the appointed portion each must bear,
Of joy or sorrow, hope or chastening care,—
But closer draws the ties which bind us here,
And makes our place of rest seem doubly dear?
Yes; as we think of all the happy years
Spent here in love unchanged by cares and fears,—
That first bright morn of all unclouded hue,
When life and wedded love alike were new;
The advancing day, that still so calm and bright
But draws from passing clouds a purer light;
The treasured memories, every hour more dear,
The future hopes which still must centre /ere,
And more than all, the merry voices come,
To fill our hearts, to bless our quiet home;
We feel no spot on earth, however fair,
For us familiar charms like this can wear,
And own with grateful hearts, that every year
But makes our lot more blest, our home more dear.
And thus when now the bright October sun
Proclaims another year its course has run,
With love that strengthens as time slips away,
I turn to greet once more thy natal day.
And many a prayer and blessing breathe for thee,
Earth's dearest treasure,—Heaven's best gift to me!
Another year has swiftly glided by,
And though dark clouds awhile have dimmed our sky,
Yet countless blessings, mercies ever new,
Have dropped unceasing as the morning dew;
And love's calm sunshine, with unfailing power,
Has cheered the gloomiest day, the darkest hour:
And say, Beloved, can I now recall
Thy love unwearied, patience bearing all,
Thy tender care, thy firm but gentle hand,
That ever strives to lead but not command,
Nor feel respect, affection, deeper grown,
With every year that makes thy worth more known,
And strive with earnest heart thy toils to share,
To soothe thy griefs, and lighten every care?
God's best and choicest blessings rest on thee,
Beloved Husband! may'st thou live to see
Our infant darlings thy best treasures prove,
Thy stay on earth, thy crown of hope above!
And every year that passes o'er our home,
Find it more blest—us nearer that to come,—
Treading through sunlit calm or stormy blast,
The narrow path that leads to rest at last.
Unheeded now my lyre has slumbered long,
And though but faint and low its wakening song,
Thou, dearest, wilt not scorn the faltering lay,
That strives to duly greet thy natal day;
Thou wilt accept the wild wreath wet with dew,
That tells of love unfeigned, of feelings warm and true!
E.