Page:The white doe of Rylstone - or, The fate of the Nortons. A poem (IA whitedoeofrylsto00wordrich).pdf/155

 The stately Priory was reared, And Wharf, as he moved along, To Matins joined a mournful voice, Nor failed at Even-song.

And the Lady prayed in heaviness That looked not for relief: But slowly did her succour come, And a patience to her grief.

Oh! there is never sorrow of heart That shall lack a timely end, If but to God we turn, and ask Of Him to be our Friend!