November's Sky Is Chill And Drear, November's

A Sinful Heart Makes Feeble Hand.

The Rose Is Fairest When 't Is Budding New, And Hope Is Brightest When It Dawns From Fears. The Rose Is Sweetest Wash'd With Morning Dew, And Love Is Loveliest When Embalm'd In Tears.

Whose Lenient Sorrows Find Relief, Whose Joys Are Chastened By Their Grief.

My Hope, My Heaven, My Trust Must Be, My Gentle Guide, In Following Thee.

Hope Is Brightest When It Dawns From Fears.