And, ere he woke, a solemn calm
Sweet o’er my spirit stole,
I had applied for Gilead’s balm—
It came, and soothed my soul.
But now, alas! I weep again!
And weep more burning tears;
And weep alone! no lovely child
To soothe my grief appears;
No husband near—how sad! how strange!
He who was all to me—