One who was suffering tumult in his soul, 
Yet failed to seek the sure relief of prayer, 
Went forth--his course surrendering to the care 
Of the fierce wind, while mid-day lightnings prowl 
Insidiously, untimely thunders growl; 
While trees, dim-seen, in frenzied numbers, tear 
The lingering remnant of their yellow hair, 
And shivering wolves, surprised with darkness, howl 
As if the sun were not. He raised his eye 
Soul-smitten; for, that instant, did appear 
Large space ('mid dreadful clouds) of purest sky, 
An azure disc--shield of Tranquillity; 
Invisible, unlooked-for, minister 
Of providential goodness ever nigh!