Then low and unaware This answer cleaved the air, This tender answer, "Doubting one be still; Oh trust to me, and know The wind, the frost, the snow, Are but my servants sent to do my will. "For the destroyer frost, His labor is not lost, Rid thee he shall of many noisome things; And thou shalt praise the snow When drinking far below Refreshment sweet from overflowing springs. "My child thou'rt not alone, I love thee, hear thy moan, But winds that fret thee only causeth thee To more securely stand, More firmly clasp my hand, And soaring upward, closer cling to me." Then from my burdened heart The shadows did depart, Then said I softly--"winds of sorrow blow So I but closer cling To thee, my Lord, my King, Who loves me, even me, so weak and low." JENNY ALLEN. I never shall hear your voice again, Your voice so gentle and low But the thought of you, Jenny Allen, Will go with me where I go. Your sweet voice drowns the Atlantic wave And the rush of the Alpine snow. You were very fair, Jenny Allen, Fair as a woodland rose; Your heart was pure as an angel's heart, Too good for earth and its woes, And I loved you, Jenny Allen, With a sorrowful love, God knows. You loved me, Jenny Allen, My sorrow made me wise; And I read your heart, 'twas an easy task, For within your clear blue eyes, Your pure and innocent thoughts shone out Like stars from the summer skies. He had riches and fame with his seventy years When he won you for his wife; You were but a child, and poor, and tired, Tired of toil and strife; And you only thought of rest, poor dove, When you sold your beautiful life. Alas, for the hour I entered in Your halls of lordly mirth; For I lost there, Jenny Allen, All that gives life worth; You taught your teacher, Jenny, The saddest lesson of earth. Ah, woe's the hour I ever stepped Your mansion walls within; For you loved me, Jenny Allen, But you never dreamed 'twas sin; Your heart was white as a lily's heart, When it drinks the sunshine in. God pity me, Jenny Allen, That I ever loved you so, I would have died to give you peace, And I only gave you woe; For your eyes looked like a wounded dove's, When I told you I must go. You were but a child, Jenny Allen, But that hour made you wise; A woman's grief and holy strength Sprang up in your mournful eyes; Ah, you were an angel, Jenny, An angel in woman's guise. But a pitiful, pitiful look, Jenny, Your seraph features wore, As I left you that dark autumn morn, Left you forevermore; And heaven seemed shut against me As I blindly shut that door. The years have rained on you golden gifts, You dwell in a queenly show; There are jewels of price in your silken hair, And upon your neck of snow. Do you ever think of me, Jenny, And the dream of the long ago?