Page:Poems Sigourney, 1834.pdf/266

Rh And so the mother's prayer, So often breathed above, In agonizing love, Rose high in praise of God's protecting care. Meek on his arm her infant charge she laid, And, with a trusting eye, Of christian constancy, Confiding in her blest Redeemer's aid, She taught the weeping band Who round her couch of pain did stand, How a weak woman's hand, Fettered with sorrow and with sin, Might from the King of Terror's win The victory.