“I Will Trust In The Covert Of Thy Wings. Selah.”

My heart is pain’d within me. When shall I Away from all these mournful sorrows fly-- The ills of life--the ceaseless care and toil, Spontaneous growth of earth’s polluted soil?

How oft my spirit plumes her eager wings, To seek a refuge from these tiresome things! But like a wounded bird, she strives in vain, Then sinks desponding to the earth again.

My heavenly Father! may my refuge be Thine own almighty wings o’ershadowing me; Thy shelter o’er my struggling spirit cast, Till these calamities be overpast.

Then trusting in the covert of thy wings-- A peaceful shade--whence healing virtue springs, I’ll lay me down, content to live or die, And wait till thou shalt bear my soul on high.

DECEMBER 22, 1840.

TO THE ASHLEY RIVER.

Ashley river! Ashley river! Do I tread thy banks again? Then ’twas not farewell forever, Told I thee with throbbing pain, When I sought thee last, sweet river, With my lovely sister, Jane!

Was there not a gentle warning Murmur’d in thy gurgling tone? Clouds were gath’ring o’er life’s morning, Which in radiant beauty shone; Ah! I felt the whisper’d warning, I should tread thy banks alone.

Yes--alone! my gentle sister Here no more shall rove with me; How I trembled when I kiss’d her, Standing near our fav’rite tree! Still I dream’d not, angel sister! ’Twas my last sweet walk with thee.

Evergreens were spreading o’er us, With their cool embow’ring shade; Hoary mosses waved before us, And a graceful drapery made: While the gliding waters bore us Many a tuneful serenade.

Pearly tears, in silence starting, Told the heart’s deep seated gloom, While we brooded o’er the parting From our early, only home; Ah! we knew not one was starting For a distant lonely tomb!

Now, no mosses wave above her, Where she sleeps so far away; But the eyes of those who love her Guard the precious sleeping clay; Angels keep bright watch above her, Till the resurrection day.

O, sweet Ashley! gently gliding, Calmly can I gaze on thee, For my loved one is abiding Where I quickly hope to be; So, each deep emotion chiding, Still I love to gaze on thee!

DECEMBER 16, 1840.