An humble poet-save the mark!
Wishes to give to you a lay
In honor of your wedding day,
But somehow labors in the dark,
And fears from etiquette to stray.
And why? No invitation came
To bid me tune my simple lyre-
To fan my low poetic fire,
Nor yet a hope of deathless fame
Which might for risk, serve me for hire.
I'll run the risk and fearless strike
A lyre too apt to slumber long,
And pour my thoughts in artless song.
Many there are who do the like,
And yet in this may do no wrong.
Now, I would hope sweet blessings may
Flow to you from our Father kind:
The rich gift of a happy mind,
In Wisdom's paths content to stay,
And purest peace in that to find.
I trust you will be filled with love,
Such love as God alone can give;
That you may still before Him live.
Placing your hopes always above,
May you his Spirit never grieve.
O, may you still, as man and wife,
Mutual confidence possess;
For this will free from much distress
Your family in after life,
And make your care and sorrow less.
May both such lovely patterns be
Of what your character requires,
That if brought through Affliction's fires
Mankind your purity may see;
And which to see God most desires.
And may you ever useful prove
In making known Christ's saving Name;
Your minds not swayed by worldly fame-
In urging souls to taste that Love
Which cheers our hearts through scorn and shame.
And should you by His Grace become
A numerous, holy, happy band,
Still he'll uphold you by His Hand,
Till all at last come safely home
Unto that glorious Spirit Land.
