I sit by the fire musing,
With sad and downcast eye,
And my laden breast gives utt-rance
To many a weary sigh;
Hushed is each worldly feeling,
Dimmed is each day-dream bright-
O heavy heart, can-st tell me
Why I-m so sad to-night?

-Tis not that I mourn the freshness
Of youth fore-er gone by-
Its life with pulse high springing,
Its cloudless, radiant eye-
Finding bliss in every sunbeam,
Delight in every part,
Well springs of purest pleasure
In its high ardent heart.

Nor yet is it for those dear ones
Who-ve passed from earth away
That I grieve-in spirit kneeling
Above their beds of clay;
O, no! while my glance upraising
To yon calm shining sky,
My pale lips, quivering, murmur,
-They are happier than I!�

But, alas! my spirit mourns
As, weary, it looks back-
Finding naught of good or holy
On life-s past barren track-
I mourn for the countless errors
That on mem-ry-s page crowd on,
And sorrow for lost chances
Of good I might have done.

But, courage! I must arouse me,
The day is not yet o-er,
And I still may make atonement
Ere leaving life-s last shore:
One act of meek oblation,
A tear of penance bright,
Will be counted as rare treasures
In heaven-s loving sight.