ART thou afflicted? O beloved—pray!
Why in grief’s darkening twilight still
abide?
Let not thy spirit ‘midst her sorrow stay,
Go forth―like Isaac at the eventide;
Attend the harmonies of earth and heaven,
So gradual peace and joy be to thy spirit
given.
There shall yet reach thee, through those
distant shades,
Joy, sent of Him who knows thy every
need:
Take to thy heart His gift: He ne’er
upbraids
The soul that in its feebleness would
plead:
Each good, each perfect gift is from above―
God changes never―He is ever Love.
Thy heart, now fluttering like a timid bird,
Should in the sunlight rise on steadfast
wing.
Thy cry of sharp distress in heaven was
heard―
Shall not the same wide heaven yet hear
thee sing?
Shall not the eye that marks the sparrow’s
fall
See thee rejoicing rise, responsive to His
call?
God is not weary: rest thee then in Him,
New strength He gives to them that have
no might;
Power when the heart is faint, the eye is
dim,
And out of darkness He commands the
light.
Wait thou on Him―there let thy spirit stay;
When thou art glad, then sing; ―afflicted,
pray.