Page:Poems Cook.djvu/127

But one deep stream of feeling flows.
 With warm devoted love for thee;
A stream whose tide, without an ebb,
 Will reach Eternity's vast sea.

Time has not dimm'd, nor will it dim,
 One ray of that bright glowing flame
Which constant burns, like Allah's fire,
 Upon the altar of thy name.

But, ah! that name, so dearly prized,
 So fondly cherish'd, soon must be
A beacon quench'd; a treasure wreck'd—
 To live but in the memory.

Father of Mercy, is there naught
 Of tribulation Thou canst send
Upon my heart but this dire stroke,
 To scathe, to sadden, and to rend?

Wilt Thou not spare, at least awhile,
 The only one I care to call
My own? Oh! wilt thou launch the bolt,
 And crush at once my earthly all?

But this is impious. Faith and Hope
 Will teach me how to bear my lot;
To think almighty Wisdom best,
 To how my head, and murmur not.

The chast'ning hand of One above
 Falls heavy; but I'll kiss the rod;
He gives the wound, and I must trust
 Its healing to the self-same God.

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