WINTER HYMN.
Thou bidd'st the glorious sun
The morning landscape light,
While mountains, vales and hillocks shine
In winter's frost-work bright.
The imploring trees stretch forth
Their trusting arms to Thee,
Who shield'st the naked in their hour
Of cold adversity.
Thou o'er the tender germ
The curtaining snow dost spread,
And give it slumber as a babe
Deep in its cradle-bed.
A chain is on the streams,
And on the summer-flood,
Yet still their sparkling eyes look up
And beam with gratitude.
The bee hath left her toil,
Within her cell to sleep,
The warbling tenants of the air
A silent sabbath keep.
Thou mak'st the lengthened eve,
The friend of wisdom prove,
And bid'st it bind confiding hearts
In closer links of love.
