In life's fair spring, its earliest tender bloom, Fell Death hath orphaned me; and Sorrow's night Hath wrapped me round; and the relentless might Of Sickness bade my days in pain consume; 180 My hours were shared with Want and Grief and Gloom. Supports, whereon as pillars firm I leant, Have all, alas! but failed me, broke or bent; Alone I bear as best I may my doom. Nay, not alone! My God forsakes me not, His Father-heart hath ne'er its truth forgot; His eye and hand still for His child must care: When man no help can find, then comes His hour, When human strength is spent He shows His power, When hid His presence seems; behold! our God is there. |