miscellaneous poems.
119
That God may send his blessing down
Upon the trusting one,
And guard from sorrow and from guilt
Thy pure and only son.
Upon the trusting one,
And guard from sorrow and from guilt
Thy pure and only son.
THE CONSUMPTIVE.
I cannot rest with a breaking heart,
Till I rest within my grave;
Vain is the leech's healing art,
He hath no power to save.
Till I rest within my grave;
Vain is the leech's healing art,
He hath no power to save.
I am passing to that "better land"
Where the weariest soul hath peace;
Kind friends, why pray to stay the hand
That bids my torture cease?
Where the weariest soul hath peace;
Kind friends, why pray to stay the hand
That bids my torture cease?
Oh! bring me to my Savior's love,
"Father, who art in Heaven,"
And raise my erring soul above
The love to which 'twas given.
"Father, who art in Heaven,"
And raise my erring soul above
The love to which 'twas given.
