Though far, and wide above my head,
The dull portentous cloud is spread;
With many a dark and massive fold,
Love decks it with a rim of gold.
The sun is shining still behind,
The promise of a purpose kind;
And, soon unveiled again, will dart
His cheering rays upon my heart.
Far brighter will His face appear,
Than if no cloud had gathered near.
Then, till the cloud is overpast,
My anchor, hope, on God I'll cast;
Assured while He is throned above,
The cloud is only sent in love.
About a fortnight after penning these lines, her father, whose
continued life she had, every spring, hailed with a new song of
gratitude, was suddenly seized with a fit of paralysis, which in a few
days terminated his earthly career. A premonitory attack had occurred
in the preceding autumn, which at the time affected his speech, but
on recovering a little, he expressed his confidence in God in these
remarkable words: "It is rolled up; it is rolled up. I am satisfied; I
am quite satisfied. I am ready; when the Lord pleases, I am ready. The
Lord hath given me eternal life. I know the Lord; I shall not perish.
I shall not perish, for I am the Lord's." During the winter he had
rallied again, and resumed his labours in his Master's cause. Hopes
began to be entertained, that he might yet be spared a little longer;
but these were suddenly cut off. About the beginning of February he
was seized again, and it was soon apparent that this attack would
prove fatal.
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