He there may chance a ship to see,
And in that ship his child may be !
Old Helda, widowed, poor and weak,
Was wandering on that beach, to seek
For sticks to light her evening fire,
When she beheld the anxious sire
Again on the accustomed hill.
"Thank God !" she cried, "it was His will
To grant a lot less hard to me.
Than this — year after year to be
Mocked by vain hopes unceasingly.
Better to know my children rest
With God, and Christ, and angels blest,
And to live calm in the meek trust
To join them when this frame is dust !"
Once more upon the down she cast
Her eyes, but night was gathering fast ;
" God help him ! " then her old lips pray,
And, with a sigh, she turns away.