My soul is on that way;
My thoughts are travellers o’er the waters dim;
Through the long weary day
I walk, o’ershadow’d by vain dreams of him.
Aid him—and me, too, aid!
Oh! ’tis not well, this earthly love’s excess!
On thy weak child is laid
The burden of too deep a tenderness.
Too much o’er him is pour’d
My being’s hope—scarce leaving heaven a part;