The Rescue
In a deep cleft among the hills
There flows one of those mountain rills;
In fine weather a scene of charms,
But in a storm ’tis all alarms.
And woe befalls those seek to trudge,
And strive to cross its rustic bridge;
The roadway it becomes deep rut,
And spot is named the babies’ cut.
Minister’s only child had died,
And the poor father mourned and sighed,
And found no rest when child was buried,
Grave robbers then mourners worried.
About the middle of first night
The preacher woke in a great fright,
For there raged a furious storm,
And he thought he saw the form
Of his sweet child alive in grave.
Shall he the rain aod lightning brave
Or humble submit and kiss the rod,
Obedient to the will of God?
Shall he who others tries to fill
With resignation to God’s will,
Forget the precepts he has taught,
And at once set them all at naught?
But he rushed to burial ground,
And to his wonder there he found
Men with a light who quick as dart,
Did throw a bundle in their cart.
Then at a furious race they drove,
But clergyman impelled by love
For his dear child, did quickly follow,
And o’ertook them in the hollow,
Where lightning flashed and thunder roared,
And the stream with fury poured;
Here the preacher shouted wild,
“Give me back my darling child.”
The horse affrighted plunged in river,
And the men were lost forever;
The minister he heard the crash
As ’gainst the broken bridge they dash.
But though a great storm did prevail,
Yet he heard a sad human wail,
Sound coming from the bridge’s rack,
He climbed o’er timber and found sack.
Then his heart got reconciled,
Sack proved to hold his darling child;
The parents’ joy who can tell,
To find their child alive and well.
Child had been buried in a swoon,
Next danger was that it might drown;
But Providence on parents smiled,
And they were blessed with their child.