Page:Zinzendorff and Other Poems.pdf/182

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tempest beat against my bark, The wrathful winds were high, And threatening blasts, like couriers brought Dark tidings from the sky;

And hoarsely o'er my sinking head Roll'd on the thundering sea, Then, from the regions of the dead, Oh Lord! I cried to thee.

The faithless Sun, behind the cloud Withdrew his guiding light, And every star its lamp withheld From that portentous night.

They fled, and left me all alone In darkness, and in fear, And so I told my woes to God, And He vouchsafed to hear.

Yes, from the lowest depths, to Him I rais'd a fervent cry, Why should a helpless worm despair, When such a friend is nigh?