336 SARAH J. HOWE. [18tO-5U. HYMN OF THANKFULNESS. I BLESS thee, Father-, that thy breath has given Existence unto me, a broken reed ; That 'midst the griefs by which Hfe's ties are riven, Thou hast bestowed me strer.gth in time of need ! Thy hand upheld me when my heart was fraught "With griefs, that wrung my full heart to the core; Tho' I perceived not, 'twas thy hand that brought The "balm of Gilead" to the festering I bless thee, Father, for the well upspring- ing— A well of pleasant thoughts, within my breast. That e'er hatl> been like April violets, flinging Their pleasant odor o'er the traveler's rest — A well which often cheered my weary hours. And led my spirit upward to thy throne — A fairy gift, that strew'd my path with tlowers. And brighten'd those that lay beside my own ! I bless thee. Father, for the sunlight stream- ings Like golden showers, on forest, hill and dome ! And for the blessed stars, like watch-fires gleaming On heaven's high walls, to light us to our home ; And for each little flower that lifts its cup Of gentle beauty thro' the emerald sod, Sending its perfume — nature's incense — up Unto thy throne, I bless thee, O my God! I bless thee, Father, for the light which shineth Clear and unbroken on life's rugged way— A ray from thy pure throne, which ne'er declineth. But ever brightens till the perfect day; That thou hast taught my heart to be con- tent — My weary soul to suffer and be still — A pilgrim I, who patiently must wait Till I have done on earth my Master's will ! AFTER A TEMPEST. The stars had come out from their homes of bright blue — Eternity's watchers — the pure and the true ! — As I wander'd abroad 'neath the beautiful moon That lit up the skies of our radiant June, There lay the proud oak that had shelter- ed the vine Through winter's dark tempests and sum- mer's warm shine- It lay in the pomp of its towering pride, The vine's gentle tendrils all crushed to its side. The vine flowers scattered, still bright in their bloom, And yielding in dying their richest per- fume ! As I gazed on the ruin the tempest had wrought — The blossoms of spring with such promises fraught, I saw by my side in the cleft of a rock, A flower unscathed by the hurricane's shock, Still blooming so sweetly, its delicate form Defying the wrath of the pitiless storm ! I looked at the flower, and I turned to the sky, And tliought of the " Rock that is higher thanl."
