AT A TIME OF DEEP PROVING.

By Eliza Paul Gurney

Poor throbbing heart! the battle wave of life

Beats strong against thee, yet thou strugglest on,

Breasting the mighty billows, though no kind, well-known voice,

When the great mountain wave threatens to o'erwhelm,

Whispers the soul-reviving words, “Be of good cheer,

The port is nearing fast!” Instead of this

Is heard the mournful moan of the discourager,

Portending peril, shipwreck, loss of all.

But ah! poor struggling heart!

An eye is over thee, a Father's eye,

Of tender love and pity. There is ONE

Whose voice is mightier than the noise

Of many waters, who sitteth on the flood

And reigneth King forever.

He sees thee breast the wave, upheld alone

By childlike trust and confidence in Him,

And through the storm is heard His gentle tone,

“Daughter, be comforted,— thy faith hath saved thee.” th mo., . E. P. G.