EACH fearful storm that o'er us rolls, Each path of peril trod, Is but a means whereby our souls Acquaint themselves with God. Our want and weakness, shame and sin, His pitying kindness prove; And all our lives are folded in The mystery of his love. The grassy land, the flowering trees, The waters, wild and dim, -- These are the cloud of witnesses That testify of Him. His sun is shining, sure and fast, O'er all our nights of dread; Our darkness by his light, at last Shall be interpreted. No promise shall He fail to keep Until we see his face; E'en death is but a tender sleep In the eternal race. Time's empty shadow cheats our eyes, But all the heavens declare The substance of the things we prize Is there and only there. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON PLAYWRIGHT (1) by BEN JONSON SONNETS TO LAURA IN LIFE: 109 by PETRARCH AUTUMN SONG by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI LOVE'S ARROW POISONED by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES SEPTEMBER: FEAST OF ST. PARTRIDGE by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |