182
poems.
What destiny is thine below,
Our bounded vision may not know:
Vain is the spirit's highest lore
The untrodden future to explore.
Our bounded vision may not know:
Vain is the spirit's highest lore
The untrodden future to explore.
Silent His perfect will we wait,
Who watches o'er thy coming fate,
With more than father's faithful eye,
Or mother's gushing sympathy;
Who hears the ravens as they call,
And marks the tender sparrow's fall.
Who watches o'er thy coming fate,
With more than father's faithful eye,
Or mother's gushing sympathy;
Who hears the ravens as they call,
And marks the tender sparrow's fall.
Seek for that jewel rich and rare,
Which comes, and comes alone, by prayer,—
His strengthening grace in danger's hour,
His sheltering love when tempests lower:
So shall the certain path be trod,
Which leads to glory and to God.
Which comes, and comes alone, by prayer,—
His strengthening grace in danger's hour,
His sheltering love when tempests lower:
So shall the certain path be trod,
Which leads to glory and to God.
