547. S. M. Montgomery. The Bow in the Cloud.

1 Out of the depths of woe,
To Thee, O Lord, I cry;
Darkness surrounds Thee, but I know
That Thou art ever nigh.

2 Like them whose longing eyes
Watch till the morning star,
Though late and seen through tempests, rise,
Heaven's portals to unbar, --

3 Like them I watch and pray;
And though it tarry long,
Catch the first gleam of welcome day
Then burst into a song.

4 Glory to God above!
The waters soon will cease;
For lo, the swift returning dove
Brings home the sign of peace.

5 Though storms Thy face obscure,
And dangers threaten loud,
Thy holy covenant is sure;
Thy bow is in the cloud!