THE day has been dark and doleful—

A day of wind and rain,

With the sound of ghostly fingers

Upon the window-pane,

And never a gleam of sunshine;

The cold gray sky has closed

In this day for sad remembrance

For what our lives have lost.

Weary with vain regretting

For things that could not be,

Weary with counting over

The graves in memory

I opened the Book of comfort

And in its pages read

What one of the grand old prophets,

In time of trouble said.

I heard like a voice from heaven

The royal singer's song

Of faith in Eternal Goodness

To triumph over wrong;

The day may be wild with tempest,

But in patient trust abide,

And remember the sweet old promise

Of light at the eventide.

And lo! as I read the chapter

So dear to the weary heart,

I saw the clouds at sunset,

Like curtains swing apart.

And it seemed like a glimpse of heaven,

That touched my eyes like balm,

As I sat in the sunset glory,

Repeating the sweet old psalm.



Christian Union