To Mrs. Fry Poem by Joanna Baillie
To Mrs. Fry
THE REFORMER OF NEWGATE.
HELP , Master, help!-we sink-our toil is vain-
We perish-help!-the faint disciples cried:
The Saviour rose and look'd upon the main,
And lo! the billows at his word subside.
But who is she, mid dungeons, chains, and cells?
(Not yet th' Almighty Master's wonders cease
Round her the storm of guilt and fury swells,
And in His name she speaks till all is peace.
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4/25/2024 9:42:27 AM # 1.0.0.1119
