Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/77
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FEMALE PIETY.
59
So Providence for us, high, infinite,
Makes our necessities its watchful task,
Hearkens to all our prayers, helps all our wants,
And even if it denies what seems our right,
Either denies because 'twould have us ask,
Or seems but to deny, or in denying grants.
Makes our necessities its watchful task,
Hearkens to all our prayers, helps all our wants,
And even if it denies what seems our right,
Either denies because 'twould have us ask,
Or seems but to deny, or in denying grants.
My Father's at the Helm.
The curling waves, with awful roar,
A little boat assailed,
And pallid fear's distracting power
O'er all on board prevailed.
A little boat assailed,
And pallid fear's distracting power
O'er all on board prevailed.
Save one, the captain's darling child,
Who steadfast viewed the storm;
And, cheerful, with composure smiled
At danger's threatening form.
Who steadfast viewed the storm;
And, cheerful, with composure smiled
At danger's threatening form.
"And sport'st thou thus," a seaman cried,
While terrors overwhelm?"
"Why should I fear?" the boy replied;
"My father's at the helm."
While terrors overwhelm?"
"Why should I fear?" the boy replied;
"My father's at the helm."
So when our worldly all is reft,
Our earthly helper gone,
We still have one true anchor left—
God helps, and He alone.
Our earthly helper gone,
We still have one true anchor left—
God helps, and He alone.
He to our prayers will bend an ear,
He gives our pangs relief,
He turns to smiles each trembling tear,
To joy each torturing grief.
He gives our pangs relief,
He turns to smiles each trembling tear,
To joy each torturing grief.
Then turn to Him, 'mid sorrows wild,
When want and woes o'erwhelm,
Remembering, like the fearless child,
Our Father's at the helm.
When want and woes o'erwhelm,
Remembering, like the fearless child,
Our Father's at the helm.
Female Piety.
'Tis sweet to see the opening rose
Spread its fair bosom to the sky;
'Tis sweet to view, at twilight's close,
The heavens' bespangled canopy.
Spread its fair bosom to the sky;
'Tis sweet to view, at twilight's close,
The heavens' bespangled canopy.