Page:Poems Shipton.djvu/70

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But Thou hast ne'er forsaken
 One waiting by the way:
Still meet me with Thy promise,
 That 'the lame shall take the prey.'

"From the tangled thicket near me
 I heard a mournful cry:
A little child had wandered
 From the sunny path hard by;
His hands were torn with briers,
 His hot tears fell like rain;
And he wept, lest he should never
 See his father's face again.

"Close to my heart I drew him,
 And pointed to the sky;
I showed him how the dark clouds,
 So slowly sailing by,
But veiled the bright sun's radiance
 From valley and from hill;
For the faithful sun was shining
 In all his glory still.

"He ceased to weep, and listened;
 I soothed his childish woe;
Then on the way I led him,
 And soon beheld him go