300 THE HARP OF PITCA1EN. 
have one of their own, which they might sing 
to the pathetic air of ' Bonny Do on.' 
G. H. N. 
I BELIEVE, I BELIEVE. 
" How are are you to-day, Polly?" said I to 
the wife of George Adams, who had long been 
grievously afflicted with a cancer in her breast, 
and was rapidly approaching the grave. 
" I shall soon be at home, sir" she said. 
" On whom is your hope placed at this time?" 
I asked. 
" On the Messed Saviour who died for me, and 
has redeemed me" 
And then she went on to declare her faith and 
hope, of which the accompanying verses are the 
substance. 
You ask how I feel in the prospect of death, 
And whether the grave has no terrors for me ? 
If bright are my hopes, and unshaken my faith, 
And to whom for relief in my sufferings I flee ? 
The questions are weighty, and I am so weak, 
Yet will I endeavour an answer to give ; 
And this is the substance of what I would speak, 
I believe, I believe. 
On the brink of the grave it has pleased my Lord 
To keep me long waiting the word to depart ; 
And though for dismission I oft have implored, 
Yet He has forgiven the thought of my heart : 
Though often impatient and prone to complain. 
Much love in this chastening I plainly perceive, 
Our Father afflicts not his children in vain ; 
I believe, I believe. 
