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POEMS.
He could but falter: “ Child of woe,
Thine is a grievous lot.”
And at that fearful sight amazed,
To heaven his tear-dimmed eyes he raised.
Thus the consoler found no word
To soothe the sufferer there;
Yet not a single plaint he heard, —
No murmur met his ear:
And — wond’rous sight — with glances mild
She turned to him, and gently smiled.
“Thanks, reverend Sir, for this warm tear !
Yet, should it please the Lord
Still twenty years to keep me here,
1’d speak no fretful word.”
She said: surprised, once more to try
Her faith, the pastor made reply, —
“ What! pray’st thou not that God above
Would end thy misery soon ?”
“T’m thankful, thankful for His love ;
His will alone be done.”
“ But such fierce pains are hard to bear.”
“Tn bitterest pains my God is near.”
“But what if God forgetteth thee ?”
His own he ’Il ne’er forget.”
“ He dwells so far from thee and me,
Where thousand stars are set.”
“ The sparrows small His eye can see,
Far more He’ll watch o’er thee and me.”
“OQ daughter! sure such faith is rare,
Whence was this grace obtained ?”
“In God’s own word, with many a prayer,
This certain trust I gained,
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