No matter how common a stone may be, How simple a ray of sun; Yet man with the aid of both, you see, And the use of a gnomon continually, Shows the pace of each hour that’s run. [Illustration: SUNDIAL AT ELMLEY CASTLE, WORCESTERSHIRE. ] Time’s called our enemy, and why? Because he goes so fast; But when in grief to Time we cry, And seek his aid with tear or sigh, He’s found our friend at last. [Illustration: SUNDIAL AT GREAT FOSTERS, NEAR EGHAM. Date about 1700. ] ’Tis ever later than we thought, By minutes or by hour; Simply because though men are taught, To read the time, as all men ought. They fail to use the power. [Illustration: A GERMAN SUNDIAL. ] Infants all are moments dear Upon life’s ancient dial, Children as minutes too appear, The youth an hour, the man a year, Old age a flickering shadow there, That lingers for awhile. [Illustration: SUNDIAL NEAR ROSS, HEREFORDSHIRE. 17th Century. ] O Time, consoler of our grief, Physician great are you, Bringing, as no one else, relief, When things seemed hopeless past belief, And pain had robbed us, like a thief, Of faith in all we knew. [Illustration: SAXON SUNDIAL, WITH INSCRIPTION, AT BISHOPSTONE. ] We remember the years, the months, and days, That some notable acts recall; But fail to note what this dial displays, How the hours and minutes, in various ways, Work out for each life that such time obeys; A record that all must appal. [Illustration: GREEK SUNDIAL IN THE LOUVRE, PARIS. ] To the heavy heart the hours go slow, To the merry always fast; Simply to teach and all men show, That though some hours go fast or slow, Equal chances men may know Of life’s pleasures while they last. [Illustration: SUNDIAL, 18th CENTURY. ] Like the psalmist each man says, Remember not my youthful ways; Present let my sins ne’er be, When I pray think Thou of me. And dear Lord, through life we find, Sins forgiven, mercy kind. [Illustration: SUNDIAL, AUSSEE, GERMANY. ]