 | Grouped thoughts and scattered fancies |  |
XII.
THE WINDS.
These are God's blessed ministers, methinks,These winds that whisper to the heart subdued,
So winningly, that still the sad ear drinks
Their messages of mercy, and the mood
Grows chaste and unresentful—while the blight
Passes from off the spirit that, but late,
13
And spoke defiance to the will of fate.—
Comforts they bring with the submissive thought
That teaches, sorrow still is the best friend,
And moves to bless the chastener, that has brought
The heart to tremble and the knees to bend,—
Counselling that better hope, that born of fears,
Is nursed in trembling and baptised in tears.
| Grouped thoughts and scattered fancies | |