In wild confusion, gently sank to rest,
And pitying Heaven granted her request.
Now at the bedside of her dying son,
While on his pallid brow her lip she press’d,
And while she felt that he was almost gone,
She sweetly smiled, and said, “God’s blessed will be done.”
XXXII.
The father, waken’d from refreshing sleep,
Now rises to resume his watchful care,
And forward coming with a muffled step,