THOU art burying thy sorrow,
Saying, “None on earth shall know;”
Thou art blinded to the morrow
By a present gloom of woe.
Thou art weeping, broken-hearted,
Saying, “None my grief shall share;”
Groaning over days departed―
Tombs and epitaphs they bear.
There is One who knows thy sorrow,
One who comforts all who mourn;
Lord is He of the tomorrow,
He our very sins hath borne.
Long ago He read the story
Of the burden thou dolt bear;
Blessed Saviour! King of Glory!
Trust Him! watch thou unto prayer.
Look to Jesus, lonely weeper!
He endured the depths of woe;
Is not He the wondrous Reaper
Of each harvest here below?
From on high He doth behold thee;
What compassion His and grace!
To His heart He doth enfold thee,
Oh, what rest in His embrace!