THE day was hot, the way was long, the feet were tired, so tired;
The goal is won toward which we strove, the goal so long desired,
The eyes which sought the distant hope through wavering mists of care,
See it at last, oh close, so close in Paradise the Fair.
The black, black night through which we groped is turned to radiant day,
The doubt to certainty more glad than song or speech can say;
The baffling winds which buffeted beyond our strength to bear,
Blew us along the blessed way to Paradise the Fair.
We doubted and we fainted, and we seemed to miss the road
As, stumbling on and painfully, we toiled beneath our load;
And the uphill left us breathless, and the tempest stripped us bare;—
What matter, since they bore us up to Paradise the Fair?
We who were lonely once and found the silence very sore,
Companioned round by our beloved are lonely never more;
The puzzles all are now explained, and the griefs which grieved us there
Are proved to be the Lord’s sure path to Paradise the Fair.