566. L. M. Bryant. |Blessed are they that mourn.|

1 Deem not that they are blessed alone, Whose days a peaceful tenor keep; The God, who loves our race, has shown A blessing for the eyes that weep.

2 The light of smiles shall fill again The lids that overflow with tears, And weary hours of woe and pain Are earnests of serener years.

3 O, there are days of sunny rest For every dark and troubled night! Grief may abide, an evening guest, But joy shall come with early light.

4 And thou, who o'er thy friend's low bier Sheddest the bitter drops like rain, Hope that a brighter, happier sphere Will give him to thy arms again.

5 For God hath marked each anguished day, And numbered every secret tear; And heaven's long age of bliss shall pay For all his children suffer here.