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LIFE.
Have turned to winter blasts, and fiercely sweep
Cold, cold and bitter o'er me. Not a flower
Blooms in my cheerless pathway; not a bird
Sings in my lonely ear; not one dear voice
Calls to me in my grief; and not one star
Shines on this wide and awful waste. My life
Is very, very desolate. O God!
Thou stay and helper of the weary heart!
To Thee I kneel in agony, and pray
That Thou wilt take me from this dreary world
To rest for ever in Thy smile of love."
Cold, cold and bitter o'er me. Not a flower
Blooms in my cheerless pathway; not a bird
Sings in my lonely ear; not one dear voice
Calls to me in my grief; and not one star
Shines on this wide and awful waste. My life
Is very, very desolate. O God!
Thou stay and helper of the weary heart!
To Thee I kneel in agony, and pray
That Thou wilt take me from this dreary world
To rest for ever in Thy smile of love."
