Life is a battle enshrouded in gloom,
We share in its conflicts and haste to the tomb,
‘Tis a journey of joy, commingled with woe,
Yet we have a hope, tis a pleasure to know.
That when this pang and wild struggle is ‘oer,
This sin-hated world will goad us no more,
Thy youth hath sons, age is wrinkling thy brow,
And the bloom of youth is flying thee now.
But as you approach the age of decline,
In the purer virtues the brighter you’ll shine.
You’ll then find a solace thro’ hope of a rest.
In the bosom of God, in the land of the blest.
Ralph L. Goodrich, Camden (S.C.), April, 1860