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HYMNS FOR CHILDHOOD.
29
'Tis noon;—yet Nature's calm profound
Seems as at midnight deep;
But hark! what peal of awful sound
Breaks on creation's sleep?
The thunder bursts!—its rolling might
Seems the firm hills to shake;
And in terrific splendor bright,
The gathered lightenings break.
Yet fear not, shrink not thou, my child!
Though by the bolt's descent
Were the tall cliffs in ruins piled,
And the wide forests rent.
Doth not thy God behold thee still,
With all-surveying eye?
Doth not his power all nature fill,
Around, beneath, on high?
C 2
