O Time! Who Know'St A Lenient Hand To Lay Softest On Sorrow'S Wound, And Slowly Thence (Lulling To Sad Repose The Weary Sense) The Faint Pang Stealest Unperceived Away; On Thee I Rest My Only Hope At Last, And Think, When Thou Hast Dried The Bitter Tear That Flows In Vain O'Er All My Soul Held Dear, I May Look Back On Every Sorrow Past, And Meet Life'S Peaceful Evening With A Smile: As Some Lone Bird, At Day'S Departing Hour, Sings In The Sunbeam, Of The Transient Shower Forgetful, Though Its Wings Are Wet The While: Yet Ah! How Much Must That Poor Heart Endure, Which Hopes From Thee, And Thee Alone, A Cure!