Page:Pocahontas and Other Poems (NY).pdf/162

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WIFE OF A MISSIONARY, ETC.

161

"Oh, when the mountain wave
    Shall be our venturous path,
And the loud midnight tempest howls
    In terror and in wrath,
Thy manly arm no more
    My dearest prop must be,
Nor thy strong counsel nerve my soul
    To brave the raging sea.

"But if our native coast
    Once more these feet should tread,
And thou, the life of all my joys,
    Be absent with the dead,
While each remember'd scene
    Shall with thine image glow,
And friend and parent name thy name,
    How shall I bear the wo?

"Is it thy voice, my love,
    That bids me bear the rod,
And stay my desolated heart
    Upon the widow's God?
Say'st thou, when every ray
    Of hope is quench'd and dim,
The widow and the fatherless
    May put their trust in Him?

"How bless'd that Word Divine,
    On which my soul relies,
The resurrection of the just,
    The union in the skies!"