COMFORT.

Once through an autumn wood

I roamed in tearful mood,

By grief dismayed, doubting, and ill at ease;

When from a leafless oak,

Methought low murmurs broke,

Complaining accents, as of words like these:

“Incline thy mighty ear

Great Mother Earth, and hear

How I, thy child, am sorely vexed and tossed;

No one to heed my moan,

I shudder here, alone

With my destroyers, wind and snow, and frost.

Then low and unaware

This answer cleaved the air,

This tender answer, “Doubting one be still;

Oh trust to me, and know

The wind, the frost, the snow,

Are but my servants sent to do my will.

“For the destroyer frost,

His labor is not lost,

Rid thee he shall of many noisome things;

And thou shalt praise the snow

When drinking far below

Refreshment sweet from overflowing springs.

“My child thou'rt not alone,

I love thee, hear thy moan,

But winds that fret thee only causeth thee

To more securely stand,

More firmly clasp my hand,

And soaring upward, closer cling to me.”

Then from my burdened heart

The shadows did depart,

Then said I softly — “winds of sorrow blow

So I but closer cling

To thee, my Lord, my King,

Who loves me, even me, so weak and low.”