A PRAYER.

———

BY MRS. C. E. DA PONTE.

———

Weary of earth, and tossed

Amid the storms which ever wreck my way,

Thou who canst save the wretched and the lost,

O hear me pray.

Weary of time, which brings

Little of comfort to my bosom now,

Feeble and worn, to Thee my bosom clings,

To Thee I bow.

Deep is the inward strife,

Thou knowest consumes my sick and weary soul,

Deep is that grief still agitates my life,

Beyond control.

Here joy is o’er,

Earth cannot soothe, for life can nothing give,

Take me, then, Father, to that mighty shore,

For Thee I’ll live.

Watch me where’er I go,

Guide my faint footsteps through this valley drear;

Father, I weep with more than mortal wo,

But yet can bear.