SIGNS OF GRACE.
COME thou, my heavy soul, and lay
Thy sorrows all aside,
And let us see, if so we may,
How God is glorified.
Forget the storms that darkly beat,
Forget the woe and crime,
And tie of consolations sweet
A posie for the time.
Some blessed token everywhere
Doth grace to men allow;
The daisy sets her silver share
Beside the rustic's plough.
The wintry wind that naked strips
The bushes, stoopeth low,
And round their rugged arms enwraps
The fleeces of the snow.
The blackbird, idly whistling till
The storm begins to pour,
Finds ever with his golden bill
A hospitable door.
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