The Posthumous Works of Ann Eliza Bleecker/Hope arising from Retrospection

Alas! my fond enquiring soul,
 * Doom'd in suspence to mourn;

Now let thy moments calmly roll,
 * Now let thy peace return.

Why should'st thou let a doubt disturb
 * Thy hopes, which daily rise,

And urge thee on to trust his word
 * Who built and rules the skies?

Look back thro' what intricate ways
 * He led thy unfriended feet;

Oft mourning in the cheerless maze,
 * He ne'er forsook thee yet.

When thunder from heav'n's arch did break,
 * And cleft the sinking ship,

His mercy snatch'd thee from the wreck,
 * And from the rolling deep:

And when Disease, with threat'ning mein,
 * Aim'd at thy trembling heart,

Again his mercy interven'd,
 * And turn'd aside the dart.

When Murder sent her hopeless cries
 * More dreadful thro' the gloom,

And kindling flames did round thee rise,
 * Deep harvests to consume;

Who was it led thee thro' the wood
 * And o'er th' ensanguin'd plain,

Unseen by ambush'd sons of blood,
 * Who track'd thy steps in vain?

'Twas pitying heav'n that check'd my tears,
 * And bade my infants play,

To give an opiate to my fears,
 * And cheer the lonely way.

And in the doubly dreadful night
 * When my Abella died,

When horror struck---detesting light!
 * I sunk down by her side:

When wing'd for flight my spirit stood,
 * With this fond thought beguil'd,

To lead my charmer to her God,
 * And there to claim my child;

Again his mercy o'er my breast
 * Effus'd the breath of peace;

Subsiding passions sunk to rest,
 * He bade the tempest cease.

Oh! let me ever, ever praise
 * Such undeserved care;

Tho' languid may appear my lays,
 * At least they are sincere.

I never will distrust thee more,
 * Tho' hell should aim her dart;

Innoxious is infernal pow'r,
 * If thou Protector art.

It is my joy that thou art God,
 * Eternal, and supreme---

Rise Nature! hail the power aloud,
 * From whom creation came.