|  | Gentleman's Magazine 1820 part 1 p.229 
 When travelling alone, quite forlorn, unbefriended,
 Sweet the hope that To-morrow my wandering should cease;
 Then at home, when with care sympathetic attended,
 I should rest unmolested, and slumber in peace.
 When six days of labour each other succeeding,
 When hurry and toil have my spirits opprest;
 What pleasure to think, as the last is receding,
 To-morrow will be a sweet Sabbath of rest.
 And when the vain shadows of time are retiring,
 When life is fast fleeting, and death is in sight,
 The Christian believing, exulting, expiring,
 Beholds a To-morrow of endless delight.
 The infidel, then, sees no joyous To-morrow,
 Yet he knows that his moments are hasting away;
 Poor wretch! can he feel without heart-rending sorrow,
 That his joys and his life will expire with To-morrow.
 Yours, &c.
 OMICRON.
 
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