In thy hour of deepest sorrow,
Never murmur, dare not blame;
God, who wounds, alone can heal thee;
Trust his power and praise his name.
Oh! may we say, each, every one,
“Not my will, but thine be done.”
She Slumbers Still.
On a midsummer’s eve she lay down to sleep,
Wearied and toil-worn the maiden was then;