90
poems.
Thanks to the volume of Thy word, Thy promise does not fail;
Summer and winter, day and night, in glad return we hail;
And when the world is dark below we raise our glance above:
The glorious stars rebuke our fears, in tender tones of love.
Summer and winter, day and night, in glad return we hail;
And when the world is dark below we raise our glance above:
The glorious stars rebuke our fears, in tender tones of love.
If sorrow's hand but lead us back, all penitent to Thee,
Our lips shall meekly kiss the rod, and own the just decree.
Then let Thy Spirit with our souls its purposes fulfil:
We cannot fear;—our Father's love hath whispered "Peace, be still."
Our lips shall meekly kiss the rod, and own the just decree.
Then let Thy Spirit with our souls its purposes fulfil:
We cannot fear;—our Father's love hath whispered "Peace, be still."
July 4, 1837.
