Seas Wept From Our Deep Sorrows.

But That From Us Aught Should Ascend To Heav'n So Prevalent As To Concern The Mind Of God, High-bless'd, Or To Incline His Will, Hard To Belief May Seem; Yet This Will Prayer.

To Hear The Lark Begin His Flight, And Singing Startle The Dull Night, From His Watch-tower In The Skies, Till The Dappled Dawn Doth Rise.

A Broad And Ample Road, Whose Dust Is Gold, And Pavement Stars,--as Stars To Thee Appear Seen In The Galaxy, That Milky Way Which Nightly As A Circling Zone Thou Seest Powder'd With Stars.

So On This Windy Sea Of Land, The Fiend Walked Up And Down Alone Bent On His Prey.

And Grace That Won Who Saw To Wish Her Stay.