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The Christian

by Eliza Wolcott

The christian hath a noble soul,
A soul that's pure and even;—
A principle, which crowns the whole,
For know, his hope is heaven.

Afflictions here, may be his lot,
Through life's uneven way;
But storms of sorrow damp him not—
The promise is his stay.

A christian, has a noble mind,
'Though in the humblest cot;
Though poor and maim'd though halt and blind
Angels surround the spot.

His garb may be a mean attire,—
His food the coarsest fare;
Yet God, his all, his chief desire,
Descends to bless him there.

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