H. S. Sutton
When thy lone dreams sweet visions see,
And loving looks upon thee shine,
And loving lips speak joys to thee
That never, never may be thine;
Then press thy hand hard on thy side,
And force down all the swelling pain;
Trust me, the wound, however wide,
Shall close at last, and heal again.
Think not of what is from thee kept;
Think, rather, what thou hast received:
Thine eyes have smiled, if they have wept;
Thy heart has danced, if it has grieved.
Rich comforts yet shall be thine own;
Yea, GOD Himself shall wipe thine eyes;
And still His love alike is shown
In what He gives, and what denies.