60 THE RAINY DAY.
And how the sick child to his father cried, " My head ! my head !" then, in his mother's arms, Grew pale and died : and how the prophet's prayer Did pluck him from the jaws of death again. Tell, too, thy little daughter, while she sits Heedful beside thee, how the shepherds heard The harps of angels, while they watch 'd their sheep And how the infant Saviour found no bed Save a straw manger 'mid the horned train : And how he rais'd the ruler's daughter up, When on her dead brow lay the weeper's tear : How at the tomb of Lazarus he mourned With the sad sisters : and, when the wild sea, And wilder tempest raged, stretch 'd out his hand And saved the faint disciple on the wave, Who pray'd to him.
Then, when the moisten 'd eye Reveals the softening soul, cast in thy seed, And Heaven and holy angels water it ! So shall the spirit of the summer-storm Gleam as a rainbow, when thy soul goes up, With its dread company of deeds and thoughts, To bide the audit of the day of doom.
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