For the Southern Literary Messenger.
Troy, June, 1835.
MR. WHITE,—The very polite invitation received in yours of February 11th, (the more valuable because it in part originates with Mr. R.) to contribute to your well conducted, entertaining and instructive periodical, would have been sooner answered, but that I was desirous to write something specially intended for the Messenger. But owing to my having a work (Universal History in Perspective) now in the press, the manuscript of which is not yet quite finished, I am obliged to devote every leisure moment in that direction. Unwilling, however, not to respond to the Virginian politeness which dictated your letter, I have sent you, from my port-folio, some little poems which have not been published.
The Messenger, as I have learned from some of our gentlemen who frequent the reading room, is highly spoken of here. Accept my grateful acknowledgment of your favor, in sending it to me.
Respectfully, yours,
EMMA WILLARD.
OCEAN HYMN.
Written on board the Sully, on a return voyage from France, July, 1831.
| Rock'd in the cradle of the deep, Father, protect me while I sleep; Secure I rest upon the wave, For thou my God hast power to save. I know thou wilt not slight my call, For thou dost mark the sparrow's fall, And calm and peaceful is my sleep, Rock'd in the cradle of the deep. And such the trust that still were mine, Tho' stormy winds swept o'er the brine; Or tho' the tempest's fiery breath Rous'd me from sleep to wreck and death, In ocean-cave, still safe with thee, The germ of immortality, And sweet and peaceful is my sleep, Rock'd in the cradle of the deep. |