Felicia Hemans

“ Without thy mother's hand to smooth thy bed?
Wilt thou not vainly spread
Thine arms, when darkness as a veil hath wound thee,
To fold my neck; and lift up, in thy fear,
A cry which none shall hear?
What have I said, my child?—will He not hear thee
Who the young ravens heareth from their nest?
Will He not guard thy rest,
And, in the hush of holy midnight near thee,
Breathe o'er thy soul, and fill its dreams with joy? ”

“ I give thee to thy God!—the God that gave thee,
A well-spring of deep gladness to my heart!
And precious as thou art,
And pure as dew of Hermon, He shall have thee,
My own, my beautiful, my undefiled!
And thou shalt be His child!
Therefore, farewell!—I go; my soul may fail me,
As the stag panteth for the water-brooks,
Yearning for thy sweet looks!
But thou, my First-born! droop not, nor bewail me,
Thou in the shadow of the Rock shalt dwell,
The Rock of Strength—farewell! ”

“ Was bow'd with sorrow unto death.
The sun set in a fearful hour;
The heavens might well grow dim,
When this mortality had power,
So to o'ershadow Him!
That He who gave man's breath might know
The very depths of human woe. ”