Page:Poems Sigourney, 1834.pdf/229

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, gather closer to my side, My little smitten flock, And I will tell of him who brought Pure water from the rock— Who boldly led God's people forth From Egypt's wrath and guile, And once a cradled babe did float, All helpless on the Nile.

You're weary, precious ones, your eyes Are wandering far and wide, Think ye of her who knew so well Your tender thought to guide? Who could to Wisdom's sacred lore Your fixed attention claim? Ah! never from your hearts erase That blessed Mother's name.

'Tis time to sing your evening hymn, My youngest infant dove, Come press thy velvet cheek to mine, And learn the lay of love; My sheltering arms can clasp you all, My poor deserted throng, Cling as you used to cling to her Who sings the angel's song.