The Willow and the Oak

I saw

when the wind swept ov­er the mead

The wil­low that stands by the brook;

Bending low

as

with pi­ti­less force

the storm

Threw down the un­bend­ing oak.

Bend low till the storm pass­eth ov­er

The sun will shine out by and by;

Bend low till the storm pass­eth ov­er

And the stars twin­kle out in the sky.

The storm had passed by

the wil­low up­rose

Her branch­es in beau­ty out­spread;

But the mon­arch of trees

in his pride cast down

Lay prone on the earth and dead.

O Christians

look up! life’s storms will soon pass;

Rejoice ye with sor­row low bowed;

Our Lord in His hand holds the light­ning’s shaft

His smile is be­hind the cloud.

And thou

who art proud

O turn ye in time

Nor fall as the de­so­late tree!

God’s mer­cy

His in­fi­nite love are thine

Awaiting

in­vit­ing thee.