IV.
O, friend of Faith! let her not deem thee foe,
Though thou dost drive her from the Paradise
To which she clings with backward turning eyes,
Thou art her angel still, and biddest her go
To wider lands where the great rivers flow,
And broad and green many a valley lies,
Where high and grand th’ eternal mountains rise,
And oceans fathomless surge to and fro.
Thus thou dost teach her that God’s true and real,