412. 7s. & 8s. M. Bowring. |He that walketh uprightly, walketh surely.|
1 He who walks in virtue's way,
Firm and fearless, walketh surely;
Diligent, while yet 'tis day,
On he speeds, and speeds securely.
2 Flowers of peace beneath him grow,
Suns of pleasure brighten o'er him;
Memory's joys behind him go,
Hope's sweet angels fly before him.
3 Thus he moves from stage to stage,
Smiles of earth and heaven attending;
Softly sinking down in age,
And at last to death descending.
4 Cradled in its quiet deep,
Calm as summer's loveliest even,
He shall sleep the hallowed sleep;
Sleep that is o'erwatched by Heaven.