“What though some cherish’d joys are fled,
Some flatt’ring dreams are gone?”
Come, mourning spirit, come to me!
I have wherewith to comfort thee;
I have a charm to soothe thy grief,
Which ever yields a sweet relief;
I cherish it within my breast;
It there abides—a welcome guest;
It chideth me whene’er I weep,
And lulls my sorrows all to sleep;
It brings bright visions to my heart,
When, one by one, my friends depart;
To all who seek this boon is given,
’Tis—an unwav’ring trust in Heaven.
The woes which in thy pathway stand,
Are there by Heaven’s high command;
By God commission’d, there they stood,
To work together for thy good.
’Tis well thou couldst not pass them by,
Or bribe them from thy path to fly,
Till each had pierc’d thy trembling heart
With sorrow’s ever pointed dart.
For, when thy wounds were aching sore,
If thou had’st never thought before
Of Him who wounded was for thee,
O, then He’d come to memory!
And if, when overwhelm’d with grief,
We fly to Jesus for relief,
And hear his gentle voice of love,
Telling of mansions far above
These often overclouded skies,
Where tears no more shall dim our eyes;
With cheerful voices may we sing,
“O, tyrant Death! where is thy sting?
O, gloomy Grave! we fear not thee,
Where is thy boasted victory?”
Then, drooping mourner! raise thy head;
What though some cherish’d joys are fled?
What though some flatt’ring dreams are gone?
Soon shall the glorious morning dawn,
Which never more shall darken’d be
By clouds o’ercharg’d with misery.