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44

WOLFE OF THE KNOLL.

"My children, God sendeth the flood! away,
  And secure your winter store!
His blessing be with you — we'll meet to pray
  Again when our work is o'er."

They fly to the meadows; the tide swells fast,
  But something there's time to save!
The share of their faithful pastor, at least,
  They'll snatch from the greedy wave.

In vain he urgeth to care for their own.
  The strength of his well-tried arm, —
For no! they will toil in his field alone,
  Till its math is safe from harm.

Must the rest be lost? strain every nerve.
  For the hungry wave is nigh!
Brief is the moment, yet still it may serve —
  How from heap to heap they fly!