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As above the darkest storm cloud
Shines the sun, serenely bright
Waiting to restore to nature
All the glory of his light,
So, behind each cloud of sorrow,
So, in each affliction, stands,
Hid, an angel, with a blessing
From the Father in his hand.
As without the tempest, pouring
O’er the earth the welcome rain,
All were but a fruitless desert,
Barren sand for ripen’ng grain,
So if ne’er a cloud of sadness
Veiled the sunshine of the soul,
If affliction’s waves were never
Suffered o’er the heart to roll.
Love and faith might fail forever
To bring forth their fruits of peace;
Heaven’s good seed of truth would perish
In a thorny wilderness.
So, with cloud and storm and tempest
Grows our earthly summer dim,
That the rebel heart, our Father
Thus may win to turn to Him. |
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