'
Eagerly Robert took it, and read. The following was the best he
could make of it:
Oh that a wind would call
>From the depths of the leafless wood!
Oh that a voice would fall
On the ear of my solitude!
Far away is the sea,
With its sound and its spirit-tone:
Over it white clouds flee,
But I am alone, alone.
Straight and steady and tall
The trees stand on their feet;
Fast by the old stone wall
The moss grows green and sweet;
But my heart is full of fears,
For the sun shines far away;
And they look in my face through tears,
And the light of a dying day.
My heart was glad last night,
As I pressed it with my palm;
Its throb was airy and light
As it sang some spirit-psalm;
But it died away in my breast
As I wandered forth to-day--
As a bird sat dead on its nest,
While others sang on the spray.
O weary heart of mine,
Is there ever a truth for thee?
Will ever a sun outshine
But the sun that shines on me?
Away, away through the air
The clouds and the leaves are blown;
And my heart hath need of prayer,
For it sitteth alone, alone.
And Robert looked with sad reverence at Ericson,--nor ever thought
that there was one who, in the face of the fact, and in recognition
of it, had dared say, 'Not a sparrow shall fall on the ground
without your Father.' The sparrow does fall--but he who sees it is
yet the Father.
And we know only the fall, and not the sparrow.
CHAPTER XII.
THE GRANITE CHURCH.
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