Professor Hamilton Smith,
with the regards of the writer.
September
1897.
The weary sea-bird goes to sleep
On tossing waves,
Untroubled by the storm, the deep,
In trust that saves.
On tossing waves,
Untroubled by the storm, the deep,
In trust that saves.
It is the hollow of Thy Hand
That shapes its rest,
So though I may not understand
Make me at rest.
That shapes its rest,
So though I may not understand
Make me at rest.
- Harriet McEwen Kimball
