‘My times are in thy hand’—I leave them there;
But, what thou sendest, give me strength to bear!
To the shorn lamb thou temperest the blast;
O, now regard me with peculiar care,
My Father God! I’ll trust thee to the last,
Though now with frowning clouds my sky is overcast.
XXV.
Say to this tempest raging in my breast,
Say to these heaving waters, ‘Peace—be still!’
This whelming tide of agony arrest!