C. W. W.
Thou child of faith--whose little store of days
Was beautiful with prayer, whom Reverence
Made humble, and white-handed Innocence
Led purely thro' the dust of earthly ways--
God spared thy soul the terror and amaze
Of that fierce wrestling with Omnipotence,
Which Jacob knew at Peniel, the suspense
Of aching doubt, and error's long delays.
Thy spirit questioned not, but saw fulfilled
The uttermost of love when Calvary
Beheld the consummation of all years.
Ah, childlike trust! so fair to us who build
The altar of our faith by dark degree,
And join the stones together with our tears.