Trust, feeble man, thy Maker's love.
3Blessed be the voice that breathes from heaven,
To every heart in sunder riven,
When love, and joy, and hope are fled,
"Lo it is I!--be not afraid."
968. L. M. Bowring.
Joy after Sorrow.
1As, when the deluge-waves were gone,
Hills, plains, and vales in freshness burst,
And nature's earliest rainbow shone