Vor vo’k vor food had done their best,
An’ left to Spring to do the rest.
“The geäte,” he cried, “a-seal’d wi’ thorn
Vrom harmvul veet’s a-left to hold
The bleäde a-springèn vrom the mwold,
While God do ripen it to corn.
An’ zoo in life let us vulvil
Whatever is our Meäker’s will,
An’ then bide still, wi’ peacevul breast,
While He do manage all the rest.
ANGELS BY THE DOOR.
Oh! there be angels evermwore,
A-passèn onward by the door,
A-zent to teäke our jaÿs, or come
To bring us zome—O Meärianne.
Though doors be shut, an’ bars be stout,
Noo bolted door can keep em out;
But they wull leäve us ev’ry thing
They have to bring—My Meärianne.
An’ zoo the days a-stealèn by,
Wi’ zuns a-ridèn drough the sky,
Do bring us things to leäve us sad,
Or meäke us glad—O Meärianne.
The day that’s mild, the day that’s stern,
Do teäke, in stillness, each his turn;
An’ evils at their worst mid mend,
Or even end—My Meärianne.
But still, if we can only bear
Wi’ faïth an’ love, our pain an’ ceäre,
We shan’t vind missèn jaÿs a-lost,
Though we be crost—O Meärianne.
