THROUGH NIGHT TO LIGHT.
By M. A. H.
O weary, weary heart! O fainting soul!
Thy struggle is in vain;
The fiery waves of woe that o'er thee roll,
O'erwhelm with fiercest pain;
There is for thee no rest, for thee no peace,
Till thought and mem'ry—life itself—shall cease. “Rest for the weary”.—words that flatteringly
Promise the heart relief;
An empty sound the words of peace to thee—
They mock thy endless grief.
Think not thyself from further woe to save,
Seek not for rest, or—seek it in the grave! Sweet rest, sweet peace, O Jesus! thou dost give,
E'en in my mortal woe;
Thou mad'st my struggling, dying hopes to live,
And led me gently through
The waves that dashed against my tired feet
To fields of living green and verdure sweet. Jesus! sweet Jesus! In my darkest hour
On thee alone I'll call;
Though waves may dash and dark'ning skies may lower,
And raging storms appall—
I heed them not, I look beyond, above,
And find my refuge in thy heart of love! Selected for Review by M. A. H.