152
poems.
No night is there. The King of kingsThe uncreated day-beam brings.He bids the tear of grief be dryAnd hushed the anguished spirit's sigh.Death may not tread the courts above,Where all is peace and perfect love.
Our Father! Thou whose sovereign willCan bid grief's gushing tide "be still!"Whose voice recalls the gifts it sent,—The blessings which thy mercy lent!Whose name we own, the Good! the Just!Whose love renews our sinking trust!—
"Thy will be done!" We may not scanThe dealings of Thy hand to man.Secure in Thee whose goodness shedsIts daily mercies o'er our heads;We bow to Thee, Eternal One!And humbly breathe, "Thy will be done!"
Then let the eye no longer weep,But fixed in view the promise keep.Gird we the armor to the breast,To follow where their feet have pressed.So may we tread the path they trod,—The path to heaven, to bliss, to God.
