Beside a cupboard bare of food
A trembling woman feebly stood,
With languid eyes in wasted face
She looked around her cheerless place;
But “God is good,” she softly said,
As hopefully she raised her head.

The soft wind frolicked with the grass;
The young leaves shone like burnished brass;
The flowers that grew around her door
Cast their sweet petals on the floor,
The sparrows twitted overhead;
“Yes, God is good,” she slowly said.

“But oh! my poor heart can it be
That He has ceased to care for me?
Sometimes I think it must be so.
For I have had much pain and woe,
Am I not more than they”, she said,
“The sparrows—and—He gives them bread.

Too weak to work, too old, too old!
And now my poor things must be sold;
The cradle and the little chair,
The toy box, ah! that God would spare!
I thought if I had faith he would;
But I am starving now for food.”

A whistle, loud and sharp and shrill,
Set her weak pulses all athrill;
“Please sign it here”, the postman said.
“It's from the west, and registered.”
“My boy,” she cried, “I thought him dead
Aye! God is good,” the woman said.