THE WORLD FOR SALE

Publishing Committee · Battle Creek, Mich. · Mar 26, 1857

THE WORLD FOR SALE.

The world for sale—hang out the sign— Call every traveler here to me— Who'll buy this brave estate of mine, And set me from earth's bondage free? 'Tis going—yes, I mean to fling The bauble from my soul away; I'll sell it—whatsoe'er it bring, The world at auction, here, to-day!

It is a glorious thing to see, Ah! it has cheated me so sore, It is not what it seems to be— For sale—it shall be mine no more. Come turn it o'er, and view it well, I would not have you purchase dear, 'Tis going—going—I must sell, Who bids—who'll buy the splendid tear?

Here's wealth in glittering heaps of gold; Who bids—but let me tell you fair, A baser lot was never sold— Who'll buy the heavy heaps of care? And friendship—rarest gem of earth, Whoe'er hath found the jewel his? Frail—fickle—false—and little worth, Who bids for friendship as it is?

Sweet star of hope—with ray to shine In every sad foreboding breast— Save this desponding one of mine, Who bids for man's last friend, and best? Ah! were not mine a bankrupt life, This treasure should my soul sustain, But hope and I are now at strife, And never may unite again.

Ambition—fashion—show and pride, I part from all, forever, now, Grief in an overwhelming tide Has taught my haughty heart to bow; Poor heart—distracted—ah so long, And still is aching—throbs to bear, How broken—that was once so strong, How weary—once so free from care.

No more for me—life's fitful dream, Bright vision banishing away; My bark requires a deeper stream, My sinking soul—a surer stay. By treachery of all bereft, I weep—yet humbly kiss the rod; The best of all, I still have left My faith—my Bible—and my God.—[Sel.