When in the bitterness of his despair
He weeps, and deems himself forsaken by
All living things; her soothing voice shall thrill
In comfort to his heart; her form shall bend
Like a pitying mother’s o’er him, and
Uphold his drooping head; her hallow’d brow
Shall shed its light upon his soul, and cast
Around him peace ineffable.
L. C. Reddell.
With ineffectual toil, the Pow’r Supreme