Page:Pocahontas and Other Poems (NY).pdf/162

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"Oh, when the mountain wave   Shall be our venturous path, And the loud midnight tempest howls    In terror and in wrath, Thy manly arm no more    My dearest prop must be, Nor thy strong counsel nerve my soul    To brave the raging sea.

"But if our native coast   Once more these feet should tread, And thou, the life of all my joys,    Be absent with the dead, While each remember'd scene    Shall with thine image glow, And friend and parent name thy name,    How shall I bear the wo?

"Is it thy voice, my love,   That bids me bear the rod, And stay my desolated heart    Upon the widow's God? Say'st thou, when every ray    Of hope is quench'd and dim, The widow and the fatherless    May put their trust in Him?

"How bless'd that Word Divine,   On which my soul relies, The resurrection of the just,    The union in the skies!"