One who was suffering tumult in his soul
Yet fail’d to seek the sure relief of prayer—
Went forth—his course surrendering to the care
Of the fierce wind, while mid-day lightnings prowl
Insidiously,—untimely thunders growl,—
While trees, dim-seen, in frenzied numbers tear
The lingering remnant of their yellow hair,—
And shivering wolves, surpris’d with darkness, howl
As if the sun were not;—he lifted high
His head—and in a moment did appear
Large space, mid dreadful clouds, of purest sky,
An’ azure orb—shield of Tranquillity,
Invisible unlook’d-for minister
Of providential goodness ever nigh!
Feb. 1819