When the breeze wafts thee onward, and no rocks appear,
Then, Christian, thine hour of peril is near;
The world may frown on thee, but oh! should it smile,
Come apart to the desert, and rest thee awhile.
1837. E. P. K.
TO A FRIEND.
Ah! be not sad, though adverse winds may blow,
Thy patience and thy fortitude to prove;
Thy Saviour wears no frown upon his brow,—