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164
POEMS AND SONGS
Poor people and poor homes among
In wintry region saddest,
In Sunday’s choir he always sung,
Of all the world the gladdest:
“The axis stout
It turns about,
Falls not the poorest home without,
For thus, O God, Thou badest.”
With sickness came a heavy year ©
And put to proof his singing,
While helpless children standing near
His trust to test were bringing.
But glad the more,
As soft notes soar
When winds o’er hidden harp-strings
pour, .
His song his soul was winging.
His life foretold us that erelong
With faith in God unshaken
Shall all our nation stand in song,
And church, home, school, awaken,
In Norway’s song,
In gladness’ song,
In glory of the Lord’s own song,
From life’s low squalor taken.
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