SIXTH DAY. 181 



the finger of God, I can perceive nothing 

 but an abyss and mass of mercies, either in 

 general to mankind, or in particular to 

 myself." 



Pray, therefore, for me, my friend, that 

 my senility may not be altogether a dreary 

 void ; that some of my faculties may to the 

 last be left me. Come, then, each Spring, 

 and see the old man ; lead him to the spot 

 he loved best when sight was not denied 

 him ; and there, while you are engaged in 

 the sport he once loved so much, let him 

 sit and murmur with the poet: 



" Thank God for memory ! This is the green dell ; 

 I hear the rill with music's ripples flowing ; 



The scents of flowers recall my childhood well ; 

 I feel the sun of new-born summer glowing, 



And, in my spirit's view I see the stream, 



And the bright fish that through the water gleam. 



" Thank God for music ! for the pleasant voices 

 Of boughs and winds and waters as they meet ; 



For every bird that in the wood rejoices ; 

 For every note in Nature's concert sweet ; 



To me the lark's clear carolling on high 



Reveals the whole wide, blue, bright summer's sky. 



