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The following lines were occasioned by the departure of my son William from home, 9th of 10th month, 1796.

  Thy image, O my son, I trace,
The parting look of thy lov'd face.
Insensible, I fear thou art,
Nor feels the pang that rends my heart.
Anxious moments, hours of grief,
Days of sorrow, and no relief;
Love, oppress'd with thoughtful care,
Through unknown climes pursues thee there.

  Parental fears still on me urge,
The frightful deeps, the foaming surge!
Ah! Must my dear, my much-lov'd son,
Such hazards and dangers run?
This world has many a gilded baits
To allure, deceive, and captivate;
Thou'rt in it launch'd, - thy heedless feet,
Fearless of danger, - dangers meet.
My bosom swell with many a sign,
In secret pray'r to God on high,
That whether storms or winds may blow,
Or in what clime soe'er thou go, 
Thy mental eye may on him stay,
Intent to trust, to watch and pray.