By Mrs. EMILY J. BUGBEE. Oh! depths unknown, Oh! wide unfathomed seas, That circle round His throne, Who dwellest high and lone, Where noise and tumult cease, In the eternal peace. Insatiate, unrepressed, Our longings still arise, Our weariness confessed, Far reaching after rest, Where the full ocean lies Beyond the veiling skies. How scant the store Of knowledge gathered here; Small pebbles on the shore, The soul cries out for more. Doth God bend down his ear, Our longing cry to hear? Nearer to thee, Great source of life and light, The child upon our knee, From pride and doubting free, Than man, from boasted height Of intellectual might. decorative line
|