 | Flotsam and Jetsam |  |
141
PRAYER.
Well, pray!—though in good sooth, to prayIs to doubt God, who's injured?—Nay,
To some strong souls opprest with clay,
Staggering along their clouded way,
It seems a stimulant and stay:
And where's the wit can surely say
What bounds the must-be—what the may?
| Flotsam and Jetsam | |