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THE TRUSTING CHILD.
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It telleth of a happy home
Beyond the stormy sky;
Mother! He'll take us there to dwell,
We're not afraid to die."
His brow was pure and peaceful
As the pearl beneath the deep,
When the booming battle thunders,
Across its bosom sweep;
Hoarse came the words of horror
From men of sinful life,
But innocence, with soul serene,
Beheld the appalling strife.
Lo! the black clouds are breaking,
The winds remit their force,
The shatterd bark retrims her sails
And slowly holds her course;
The wearied men are faint, as they
Who with giant foes have striven,
But the trusting child, as he gently smiled
Seem'd like a guest from Heaven.
