Shines in the showery gloom and makes the cloud
A shape of glory, in thy path she stands
A herald of high promise. Blessed emblem!
Religion bids thee hope. This gloomy life
Must be amended. We must draw thee hence.
Queen. Thanks be to God! time works while
we grieve on.
Deprive not sorrow of the shade she needs,
The sad quiescence of desponding thought.
Job also raised his voice, and wailed aloud,