 | Poems |  |
ASH WEDNESDAY.
FROM THE EPISTLE.
I
When our hearts with grief are sore,When our path looks dark and sad,
When Hope's star appears no more,
When our foes are proud and glad—
When our steps have gone astray,
Till we feel the chastening rod,
Wherefore should the godless say—
“Where is now their God?”
II
In our grief of heart is He—In the darkness of our path—
96
Robed in mercy, not in wrath.
Thus he warns us from the way—
Sin's wild way, which we have trod;—
Why should then the godless say—
“Where is now their God?”
III
While in this dark world we roam,Out of sight His judgments lie;
Stay till we have reach'd our home—
That bright home beyond the sky.
When, in Time's last awful day,
We of Earth throw off the sod—
How shall then the godless say—
“Where is now their God?”
| Poems | |