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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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