O little dove with thy folded wings!
O billows that utter such wondrous things!
Ye are thoughts from God; let him send at choice
The ocean thunder, the still small voice;
If they speak from One who alone can know
The height and the depth of our human woe;
Who has felt each pang of our mortal breath,
Sin's serpent fang and the night of death,
And Who o'er the waves of Life's troubled sea
Calls unto the suffering: "Come unto Me."
O billows that utter such wondrous things!
Ye are thoughts from God; let him send at choice
The ocean thunder, the still small voice;
If they speak from One who alone can know
The height and the depth of our human woe;
Who has felt each pang of our mortal breath,
Sin's serpent fang and the night of death,
And Who o'er the waves of Life's troubled sea
Calls unto the suffering: "Come unto Me."
Touched with His compassion for sin and pain,
In a world that is starving for sympathy,
Where every heart knoweth its misery,
May life's hard lessons be not in vain;
Content if they teach me one noble song
That shall lift one life from the wrecks of wrong.
In a world that is starving for sympathy,
Where every heart knoweth its misery,
May life's hard lessons be not in vain;
Content if they teach me one noble song
That shall lift one life from the wrecks of wrong.
THE FROST
It came on a blossomy night of Spring,
The blight, the blast, the frost;
It touched the blooms with its icy wing,
Alas, for the Summer's promised fruit!
The morning dawned on those blighted blooms,
They were fragrant still and fair,
But the hand of death had been there,
Nor their tiny hearts did spare;
Alas, for the life whose heart is dead,
As the blighted blossoms that hang o'erhead!
Alas, for the branches bleak and bare!
The blight, the blast, the frost;
It touched the blooms with its icy wing,
Alas, for the Summer's promised fruit!
The morning dawned on those blighted blooms,
They were fragrant still and fair,
But the hand of death had been there,
Nor their tiny hearts did spare;
Alas, for the life whose heart is dead,
As the blighted blossoms that hang o'erhead!
Alas, for the branches bleak and bare!
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