tr., John Brownlie
When clouds obscure the rising sun,
And darkness weeps where joy should sing;
Hail, then, my soul, the day begun,
And wait the light that noon shall bring.
If clouds like curtains veil the light,
When day at noon should brightly smile;
Up, then, my soul, it is not night,
The glory tarries but a while.
Wait till the hills that bar the west --
That pierce the clouds their summits crown --
Snatch, ere the day declines to rest,
The glory as the sun goes down.
More bright than morn, than noon more fair,
The purple and the gold serene;
The light and rapture everywhere,
That sing, and shine, the clouds between.
If waits the joy of God betimes,
And tears bedew where smiles should be;
If dark the noon when sunlight climbs,
The light at eve thine eyes shall see.