Читать книгу Hymns, Songs, and Fables, for Young People - Eliza Lee Cabot Follen - Страница 20

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Help me, O God, to trust in thee,

Thou high and holy One!

And may my troubled spirit flee

For rest to thee alone.

In thee alone the soul can find

Secure and sweet repose;

And thou canst bid the desert mind

To blossom as the rose.

Let not this spirit, formed to rise

Where angels claim their birth,

Forsake its home beyond the skies,

And cling to barren earth.

The bird of passage knows the sign

That warns him to depart;

Shall I not heed the voice divine,

That whispers in my heart,—

"Up! plume thy wings, soar far away!

No longer idly roam!

Fly to the realms of endless day;

For this is not thy home."

This still, small voice, O, may I hear!

Ere clouds and darkness come,

And thunders in my startled ear

Proclaim my final doom.

Father! to thee my spirit cries!

Thy wandering child reclaim.

Speak! and my dying faith shall rise,

And wake a deathless flame.