Shall this scathing tempest find me?
Is this shadow but a shade?
Pain, and fear, and darkness blind me,
And my spirit shrinks afraid.
Backward have I looked imploring,
But the sky is overcast;
And the clouds of doubt are lowering
Even oe'r the sunny past.
How hath sorrow bruised my spirit,
Clouded all my hopes and dreams,
Till no light of gladness near it
Shines upon its troubled streams.
Where hath fled the glorious vision
That enchained my soul so long;
Points it now in stern derision
To my faded flowers of song?
Is there then no resurrection
Of the spirit's buried strength?
Penance done, and sad reflection,
Will restore the boon at length.
Gloom and sorrow I will banish,
Tempests shall be overcome;
Phantom fears shall all evanish,
Exiled to their proper tomb.
If my spirit faint or falter,
Glorious vision, lend thine aid!
Thou shalt shine above the altar
Where my hope and trust are laid.
