hey live in you, os under you, O wheels!---

    Still, all day, the iron wheels go onward,

    Grinding life dos mark;

    And the childrens souls, which God is calling sunward,

    Spin on blindly in the dark.

    Noell thers,

    to look up to him and pray---

    So thers,

    ill bless ther day.

    t he should hear us,

    e tirred?

    ures near us

    Pass by, , or ans a word!

    And heir resounding)

    Strangers speaking at the door:

    Is it likely God, h angels singing round him,

    hears our weeping any more?

    two words, indeed, of praying we remember,

    And at midnights hour of harm,---

    Our Fathe chamber,

    e say softly for a charm.

    e kno Our Father,

    And , in some pause of angels song,

    God may pluck t to gather,

    And  rong.

    Our Father! If he heard us, he would surely

    (For they call him good and mild)

    Anseep world very purely,

    Come and rest h me, my child.

    But no! say ter,

    one;

    And tell us, of er

    o work on.

    Go to! say the children,---Up in heaven,

    Dark, wurning clouds are all we find.

    Do not mock us; grief has made us unbelieving---

    e look up for God, but tears have made us blind.

    Do you he children weeping and disproving,

    O my brot ye preach?

    For Gods possible is taught by his worlds loving---

    And t of each.

    And he children weep before you;