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418 POEMS.
And oft in mine own breast I hear
My Father’s voice that whispers cheer.
“He says: ‘ Yet bear a little while
Thy cross with patient love,
And thus to men, by thy calm smile,
My strength in weakness prove ;
Such be thy work, — perform it well,
Then come with Me in bliss to dwell.’
“Oh, blest even now, the captive may
Bear witness of His love,
Till, freed from bonds, as clear as day
She sees His face above.
To serve Him there as here, aright,
Is my desire, my sole delight.”
Struck dumb, but not, as erst, with dread,
The worthy pastor stood:
“QO gracious God!” he inly said,
In grateful, melting mood,
“ Take health, take all my earthly bliss,
But give me, Lord, a heart like this!”
*THE SONG OF THE WEARY ONE.
Ox that day will come, it will come at last,
When my weary eyelids close,
When I lay me down to my long, long rest,
And this aching heart shall repose.
All bitter memories — oh, thought of peace !—
Shall fade when my breath is fleeting ;
And the anguish that racks my heart shall cease
When that heart is no longer beating.
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