Poems.
81
Our barque is launched on life's rough stream,
And it may prove a troubled dream
To many a feeling soul;
But He, who at the helm presides,
Ever, as now, in safety guides,
Towards that distant goal,
In radiant realms of endless light,
Beyond the view of mortal sight.
And it may prove a troubled dream
To many a feeling soul;
But He, who at the helm presides,
Ever, as now, in safety guides,
Towards that distant goal,
In radiant realms of endless light,
Beyond the view of mortal sight.
THE WANDERER.
Pilgrim! whither dost thou roam,
Hast thou on the earth no home?
Is thy heart with sorrow riven?
Hast thou with misfortune striven?
Art thou care-worn, sad and weary?
Are life's pleasures dull and dreary?
Oh, yield thee not to dark despair,
Patiently thy sorrows bear:
There is an antidote to grief,
Look thou on high for that relief;
There dwells a God of boundless love,
And justice marks liis throne above.
To Him pour forth thy fervent prayer
Thou 'rt still the object of his care.
Hast thou on the earth no home?
Is thy heart with sorrow riven?
Hast thou with misfortune striven?
Art thou care-worn, sad and weary?
Are life's pleasures dull and dreary?
Oh, yield thee not to dark despair,
Patiently thy sorrows bear:
There is an antidote to grief,
Look thou on high for that relief;
There dwells a God of boundless love,
And justice marks liis throne above.
To Him pour forth thy fervent prayer
Thou 'rt still the object of his care.
