Classic Poem

“Go, see, is Molly quiet?
My little daughter, go:
I left her in the pasture,
Where grass and clover grow.
A pail of milk this morning
She freely yielded me,
Chewing her cud contented
Beneath the shady tree.

“She is our only treasure,
No stay have we beside
For bread for us and Billy,
Since your dear daddy died;
So run, and see how Molly
Doth in the clover fare;
The rinderpest, they tell me,
Is sweeping through the air.

“O! what if she should perish
Like those around us do,
And fall before this murrain,
Shall we not perish, too?
Deliver us, O Father!
And help us on our way;
Thou sendest what Thou pleasest,
O! teach us to obey.”

So Jane ran down the dingle,
With loose and flowing hair;
And when she reach'd the pasture,
Sad sight she witness'd there;
For Molly lay a-dying
Upon her clover bed,
And ere she call'd her mother,
Their pretty cow was dead.

Bow'd down the weeping widow
Beneath this heavy blow;
The light of life was darken'd;
She felt the weight of woe;
But He who feeds the ravens
Supplied the trusting poor,
So that they never hunger'd,
But felt His promise sure.

O, hear us, holy Father!
To Thee we humbly pray;
O, save us in our sorrow,
And turn the plague away.
Yes, we are guilty, guilty!
But save us by Thy power,
And let Thy mercy triumph
In this distressing hour.