html.skin-theme-clientpref-night @media(prefers-color-scheme:dark){html.skin-theme-clientpref-os }THE air of heav’n is soft and sweet,
That round my temples plays.
I’ll stop awhile my wand’ring feet,
On sky and stream to gaze.
But ah! though all around is fair,
And bright and clear the day,
Clouds, viewless clouds, are in the air,
And dim the heav’nly ray.
O mists of Error, clouds of Sin,
Why dim ye thus the soul?
I fain would pierce the veil within,
But ye around me roll.
Thou veil, that hid'st the inner might
That worketh all in all,
Why not disclose that Presence bright
To them that long and call?
In mercy art thou closely drawn,
Lest too much light should kill;
We must await the golden dawn,
That sleeps on Zion’s hill.
The wish is good, the flesh is weak,
The spirit sick within,—
Confess, poor Heart, with sorrow meek
Thy bondage and thy sin:
That thou art all unfit to see,
What dwelleth there on high;
That such a sight is not for thee,
To gaze upon it nigh.
Thou seest God’s tokens ev’ry where,
Thou hear’st his call within,
Be patient, till his heav’nly care
Free thee from guilt and sin.
Then shalt thou gaze with eye serene,
And praise with voicing clear,
And perfect Love with cloudless mien
Shall cast out Doubt and Fear.