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psalm xcr, 11. 337
O winter! thou hast hours of bliss,
And hours for sober thought; Lessons of wisdom, love, and truth, -
Which summer knoweth not.
" For he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways."
Young disciple, dost thou fear Dangers lurking in thy path ?
Are the skies that spread above thee, Sullen with impending wrath ?
Is thy way like desert sands,
Scorch'd beneath thy feet and dry ?
Are the flowers of hope, so blooming, Wither'd 'neath a cheerless sky ?
Hear this promise, rich and sweet, Sounding from the sacred wordó
How thy dark, desponding spirit By its music should be stirr'd:
" God shall send his angels forth, All commission'd, from the sky;
In their might they shall defend thee, In their arms shall bear thee high !"
O! poor soul,ólook up and see,
Through the mist that veils thy sight, 22