The Old Dame's Prayer

Ah, dark were the days oL winter On the Pomeranian strand ; The snow feil fast in the wintry blast, And foes were in the land. It was in a humble cottage, Apart from the village street, An old dame spun by the flre and sung, And the words were trustful and sweet ; "And whatthough the foe assail us, We need not faint nor fear, For God in thcir need can build with speed A wall round His people dear." A step is heard in the doorway ; 'Tis the widow's only son, Who with moody brow is entering now, When his long day's toil is done. "Mother, the Cossacks are on us, The cruel and ruthless foe; With the beat of drum I heard tnem come Through the wind and the driving snow. "Plunder and rapiñe and murder Go with them hand in hand. The psalms that you stag will no sueeor bring ; God has forsaken the land." "Fear not, my son," said the mothcr, "For God, who reigneth on high, Oan seatter this host like leaves in frost, And save us li'om danger nig;h. "Nor dread, although they be coming With drum and witu trumpet sound : The Lord at our need can build with speed A wall to compasa us round." "Fond is the íancy, my mother; For wonders are done no more. Ere an hour can pass they'll be here, alas ! To plunder our little store." "Build, Lord, a rampart around us; Stretch forth Thy mighty arm!" Was all that she salí as shc knelt and prayed - "Shield, Lord, and save us from harm! By the glare of the enemy's trumpets, "Borne on the wintry blast, By the roll of the drum, she knew they naü And the tramp of their f eet as they passert. , Thick and fast feil the snow flakes, Wild blew the wintry Wast; Dark was the night- not a star shed lts light- And slowly the hours went past. Sounds were heard on the midnight, Wailings of bitter woe, That told in their rage, nor childhood nor age Were spared by the pltiless ioe. "Build, Lord, a rampart around us !" Meekly the mother prayed, And the drifting snow on the fields below A wall round the cottage made. Few were the words, yet the angels Had carrled to heavon her prayer, And ere night was done it was clear to the son That the hand of the Lord was there. Noon came. The sun at the dawning Shone, but they saw Uim uot ; And no foeman's eye through the snowdrifts high ■ Had lit on their tiny cot. Later, when winter was over, The Cossacks gone from the land, No cot was seen like the dame's, I ween, On the Pomeranian strand. For the peace of God was upon it, No longer with moody brow Did the widow's son, when hiB work was done, Enter the cottage now. He had learned the faith ef his mother; He knew that the Father' 8 arm Could build at their need a wall with speed To shelter His people from harm.