Poems (Osgood)/Heaven is over all

by Frances Sargent Osgood

HEAVEN IS OVER ALL.

In weary paths, my precious boy,
 Your faltering feet must fall;
But bear in mind, where'er you go,
 That Heaven is over all!

You're tripping thro' a garden now,
 Where childhood loves to play,
And kind hands pull the flowers for you,
 And throw the thorns away;

And softly falls the tender light—
 The breeze—'tis joy to breathe it!
And if, perchance, a shower descends,
 New blossoms wake beneath it;

But by and by you'll leave your bower,
 And "go your ways" alone,
With but a chance companion, love,
 Across your pathway thrown;

And sometimes in the desert bare,
 Grief's bitter tears must fall;
But bear in mind, my boy, e'en there,
 That Heaven is over all!

And sometimes over flinty rocks
 Your tender feet must stray;
And sometimes in a tangled wood
 You'll almost lose your way;

And oft you'll sigh for Childhood's home,
 When gloomy scenes appal,—
Oh! bear in mind, where'er you roam,
 That Heaven is over all!

Be sure a sunbeam, thro' that wood,
 Will light you on your way;
Be sure, within that solitude,
 Some living fount will play.

And tho' the flinty rock should fret
 Full long your weary feet,
There's moss upon its bosom yet,
 Will make a pillow sweet:

And now and then a balmy air
 Will float with soft perfume,
And lovely blossoms, here and there,
 Will bless you with their bloom:

But if the clouds should hide the sky,
 And blinding rain should fall,
Remember, God is always nigh,
 And Heaven is over all!

low—now, while yet in Childhood's bower,
 With that wild way in view,
Oh! put your little hand in His,
 And He will lead you through!

For if, with pure and patient heart,
 With firm resolve and high,
You tread the path appointed, love,
 And pass Temptation by,

A fairer home than Childhood's home,
 A fonder love then ours,
Await you at your journey's end,
 In Heaven's own balmy bowers.

Where'er you go—in weal or wo,
 Whatever fate befall,
In sunny glade, in forest shade,
 A Heaven is over all!