In the morning of thy youth,
Learn this sober, solemn truth;
Life is passing like a stream,
Or a meteor’s sudden gleam;
Like the bright aurora’s blaze,
Disappearing while we gaze;
Soon the child becomes a maid,
In the pride of youth arrayed,
And her mind and form expand
To proportions great and grand;
Then she changes to a wife,
Battling with the ills of life;
Thus we come and thus we go,
And our cups with joy and woe,
Oft are made to overflow. 
Each returning bright birthday,
Like the mile-stones by the way,
Will remind you as you go—­
Though at first they pass so slow
That behind there is one more
And, of course, one less before;
Watch the moments as they fly,
With a never tiring eye—­
Since you cannot stop their flow,
O! improve them as they go.

ROLL CALL.

    Written on the death of William Sutton, a member of the order of
    Good Templars.

Call the roll!  Call the roll of our band,
  Let each to his name answer clear,
There’s danger abroad, there’s death in the land,
  Call the roll, see if each one is here.

The roll call is through, one answers not,
  Brother Sutton, so prompt heretofore,
Has answered another roll call; the spot
  Which knew him shall know him no more.

He’s at rest by the beautiful river,
  Which flows by the evergreen shore,
Where the verdure of spring lasts forever,
  And sickness and death are no more.

O alas! that the righteous should die,
  While sinners so greatly abound,
In the world that’s to come we’ll know why,
  The latter incumber the ground.

This mystery we’ll then comprehend,
  And all will be plain to our sight,
Then dry up the tears which flow for our friend,
  In full faith that God doeth right.

IN MEMORIAM

Rensellaer Biddle.

A noble heart is sleeping here,
  Beneath this lowly mound;
With reverence let us draw near,
  For this is holy ground.

The mortal frame that rests below
  This consecrated sward,
Was late with heavenly hope aglow,
  A temple of the Lord.

His charity was like a flood,
  It seemed to have no bound,
But reached the evil and the good,
  Wherever want was found.

The poor and needy sought his door,
  The wretched and distressed,
He blessed them from his ample store,
  With shelter, food and rest.

Giving his substance to the poor,
  He lent it to the Lord;
While each returning harvest brought
  Him back a rich reward.

Thus passed his useful life away,
  Dispensing good to all,
Till on the evening of his day,
  He heard his Master call.

“Brave soldier of the cross, well done,
  You’ve fought a noble fight;
Come up, and claim the victor’s crown,
  And wear it as your right.”