"Time, like an ever-rolling stream, Bears all its sons away; They fly, forgotten, as a dream Dies at the opening day.
"Like flowery fields, the nations stand, Fresh in the morning light; The flowers beneath the mower's hand Lie withering ere 'tis night.
"Our God, our help in ages past, Our hope for years to come, Be Thou our guard while troubles last-- O Father, be our home!"
"Now sing a song--a Scottish song," suggested Caroline, when the hymn was over--"'Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon.'"
Again Mrs. Pryor obeyed, or essayed to obey. At the close of the first stanza she stopped. She could get no further. Her full heart flowed over.

"Our God, our help in ages past,
Our hope for years to come,
Be Thou our guard while troubles last-
O Father, be our home!"
"Now sing a Scottish song," suggested Caroline. "'Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon.'"
Again Mrs. Pryor obeyed, but after the first stanza she stopped. She could get no further.
