Page:Pocahontas and Other Poems (NY).pdf/216



the babe, with ceaseless cry, Just entering on mortality. Oh Saviour! thou for whom wert spread, Mid wondering brutes, the manger-bed, With pity view its feeble strife, And fan the trembling spark of life.

The boy, with giddy footsteps, strays Through hidden Danger's devious maze; Thou! who in childhood's wayward hour, Wert subject to thy mother's power, Withdraw his heart from Folly's snare, And in Thy wisdom let him share.

The man mature, mid noontide heat, Temptation's countless forms must meet; Redeemer! thou who scorn and care With meek, unanswering love didst bear, His burdens ease, his thoughts control, And with thy patience arm his soul.

The lonely stranger sorrowing roves, An exile from the land he loves; Thou, who but in one cottage glade At Bethany wert welcome made, Speak peace when deep despondence sighs, And tell of mansions in the skies.