 | [Poems by Cary in] The Poetical Works Of Alice and Phoebe Cary |  |
OCCASIONAL.
Our mightiest in our midst is slain;
The mourners weep around,
Broken and bowed with bitter pain,
And bleeding through his wound.
The mourners weep around,
Broken and bowed with bitter pain,
And bleeding through his wound.
Prostrate, o'erwhelmed, with anguish torn,
We cry, great God, for aid;
Night fell upon us, even at morn,
And we are sore afraid.
We cry, great God, for aid;
Night fell upon us, even at morn,
And we are sore afraid.
Afraid of our infirmities,
In this, our woeful woe,—
Afraid to breast the bloody seas
That hard against us flow.
In this, our woeful woe,—
Afraid to breast the bloody seas
That hard against us flow.
The sword we sheathed, our enemy
Has bared, and struck us through;
And heart, and soul, and spirit cry,
What wilt thou have us do!
Has bared, and struck us through;
And heart, and soul, and spirit cry,
What wilt thou have us do!
Be with our country in this grief
That lies across her path,
Lest that she mourn her martyred chief
With an unrighteous wrath.
That lies across her path,
Lest that she mourn her martyred chief
With an unrighteous wrath.
Give her that steadfast faith and trust
That look through all, to Thee;
And in her mercy keep her just,
And through her justice, free.
That look through all, to Thee;
And in her mercy keep her just,
And through her justice, free.
| [Poems by Cary in] The Poetical Works Of Alice and Phoebe Cary | |