Page:Poems Shipton.djvu/109

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I murmured, "Why this Marah
 On my love-path to-day?"
No answer but the roaring
 Of the wild wave on its way.

Thirsty, footsore, and weary,
 Did He not hear my cry?—
The mighty God of Jacob,
 Who triumphed gloriously;
Whose praises fill the echoes,
 Whose mighty deeds are told
In each day's march of mercy,
 As wondrous as of old.

Three days,—yet all was silence,
 And glittering sand and drought;
Three days I watched and waited,
 And living waters sought;
Three days,—but all was desert,
 And sharp the burning blast,
Like a furnace breath swept o'er me:—
 Deliverance came at last.

Behold, and lo! beside me
 I marked a fair tree lie,
Marred by fierce hands that held it
 So rude and ruthlessly.