How oft my spirit plumes her eager wings,
To seek a refuge from these tiresome things!
But like a wounded bird, she strives in vain,
Then sinks desponding to the earth again.
My heavenly Father! may my refuge be
Thine own almighty wings o’ershadowing me;
Thy shelter o’er my struggling spirit cast,
Till these calamities be overpast.
Then trusting in the covert of thy wings—
A peaceful shade—whence healing virtue springs,