With a short and childlike prayer
They to needful rest betake them.
Through the tempest's troubled roll
Is there then no eye but sleepeth ?
Aye ! for still upon the knoll
Wolfe his patient vigil keepeth !
Even that last, that cruel blow,
His unbroken faith surviveth,
Saying still, with Job, 'I know
Surely my Redeemer liveth !'
When from that long swoon he woke,
Straight to Heaven did he address him,
And the first faint words he spoke —
'Though He slay me I will bless Him' −
Scarce his shrunken lips had passed,
When the postman's bark came flying
O'er the cold gray waters fast
Toward the beach where he was lying.
Man of sorrow, lift thy head !