CHILDLIKE TRUST.
A storm swept over sea and land ; Harvest and bloom are beaten low, And many a treasure on the strand Marks the wild track with loss and woe. Where in the solitude it searched A child hath hung his one harp-string ; The blast to melody is touched, Prelude to blessings it would bring. 0 heart, my heart, when clouds of fate Shroud thy fair sky and on thee beat, With childlike trust to live and wait, Win from each storm its music sweet. M. D. Conway.
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/periodicals/FRERE18831201.2.24
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Freethought Review, Volume I, Issue 3, 1 December 1883, Page 11
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88CHILDLIKE TRUST. Freethought Review, Volume I, Issue 3, 1 December 1883, Page 11
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