432. L. M. Cotton. A Peaceful Conscience.

1 While some in folly's pleasures roll,
And court the joys that hurt the soul,
Be mine that silent, calm repast,
A conscience peaceful to the last.

2 With this companion in the shade,
My soul no more shall be dismayed;
But fearless meet life's dreariest gloom,
And the pale monarch of the tomb.

3 Amidst the various scenes of ills,
Each blow some kind design fulfils;
And can I murmur at my God,
While love supreme directs the rod?

4 His hand will smooth my rugged way,
And lead me to the realms of day;
To milder skies, and brighter plains,
Where everlasting pleasure reigns.