Page:The Easter Gift.pdf/26

But death, not sleep, was on those eyes,
Beneath the heat declining:
O'er glittering sands and cloudless skies
The noontide sun was shining.

Far, far away the desert spread;
Ah! love is fain to cherish
The vainest hopes, but now she said,
"Let me not see him perish."

Then spoke the Lord, and at his word
Sprang forth a little fountain,
Pure, cold as those whose crystal hoard
Is in some pine-clad mountain;

And herb and shrub upon the brink
Put forth their leaf and blossom;
The pelican came down to drink
From out its silvery bosom.

O blessed God, thus doth thy power,
When, worn and broken-hearted,
We sink beneath some evil hour,
And deem all hope departed—

Then doth the fountain of thy grace
Rise up within the spirit,
And we are strengthened for that race
Whose prize we shall inherit.