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He learns that they who know no friends below
May look to heaven and there a legion know,
And cheered and comforted, at break of day,
He blesses God and onward wends his way.

Or read of Hagar, in the wilderness,
When Ishmael, her child in deep distress,
Lay dying on the parched and fiery sand,
No pitying friend to aid in all the land.
The water in her meagre cruse was spent,
And in that wilderness no brooklet lent
Its sweet, refreshing music to the scene,
And on its banks awoke the grasses green;
No crystal lake was there, within whose calm
Reflected lay the skies' inverted charm;
Not e'en one flower whose tiny chalice swung
Its dewy cup to cool that fevered tongue.
Slow moved the hours, and, stricken to despair,
The mother bowed, with lips too sad for prayer.