Page:Hemans in Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine 33 1833.pdf/7



Darker, wilder, grows the night— Not a star sends quivering light Through the massy arch of shade By the stern old forest made. Thou! to whose unslumbering eyes All my pathway open lies, By thy Son, who knew distress In the lonely wilderness, Where no roof to that blest head Shelter gave— Father! through the time of dread, Save, oh! save!