Poem August 23, 1900 Issue

I Will Not Fear

BY IDA FULLER MOORE.

What though there be dark, lowering sky?
What though the waves leap mountain high?
On land or sea, I know that He,
Who ever ruleth righteously,
Is Lord of all in His vast realm;
"Our Father's at the helm!"

So when my thoughts foreboding seem
And heavy with a fearful dream;
Or turbulent as troubled sea,
And mighty billows compass me;—
Though error would the heart o'erwhelm,
"Our Father's at the helm!"

His angel whispers, "Peace, be still,"
And peace my heart doth straightway fill.
The waves are calm, the errors flee,
All things repeat obediently,—
The timid flower, the fearless elm,—
"Our Father's at the helm!"

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