TILE HOUR OF PRAYER.
{"newspaper_name": "American watchman and Delaware advertiser.", "edition": "01", "page": "p1", "byline": ""}
{"character_count": 764, "word_count": 139, "ccnet_language_score": [0.8636000156402588], "ccnet_perplexity": [1702.5], "fasttext_language": ["en"]}
BY Mrs Hemans
Child, amidst the flowers at play,
While the red light fades away;
Mother, with thine earnest eye,
Ever following silently
Father, by the breeze Of eve
Call'd thy harvest-work to leaves
Pray Ere yet the dark hours be,
Lift the heart and bend the knee.
Traveller, in the strangers land,
Far from thine own household band;
Mourner, haunted by the tone
OF a voice from this world gone;
Captive, in whose narrow cell
Sunshine hath not leave 10 dwell:
Sailor, on the darkening sea,
Lift the heart and bend the knee.
Warrior, that from battle won,
Breathest now at set OF sun;
Woman, o'er the lowly slain,
Weeping on his burial. plain;
Ye that triumph, ye hat sigh,
Kindred by one holy tie!
Heavens first star alike ye see
Lift the heart and bend the knee!