This sampler which appears in view, When first begun cost many a tear; The merit to my friends is due, Who taught me the right course to steer. The silken threads both long and fine Did often break and make me sigh; At crosses oft we do repine, But still our hope’s in him on high. Oh heavenly Father bless my friends Oh bless them with peculiar care For I can ne’er make them amends Oh heavenly Father hear my prayer. The thread of life may soon decay, The knot may slip—then all is o’er; Oh: may the needle ne’er give way, Until we reach the happy shore.