WATCHING, WAITING, HOPING.
By D. H. Lamson
When will the night end, and the morning arise,
Its halo of glory o'erspreading the skies,
Dispel the thick darkness and long-gathered gloom
That hangs like a pall on humanity's tomb?
That star which arising in ages long fled,
Has waned, is wading, through mists deep and dead;
O say, will it surely yet weather the blast,
And shine forth in beauty and splendor at last? My heart has long rested, firm faith been its stay,
With hope bright and buoyant looked forth to that day,
Then how can I yield them, this faith, hope and heart,
Turn back from thy Zion and from thee depart?
O shine in thy brightness transcendently clear
Thou age of all ages, in glory appear.
I long to behold him, my Saviour, and see
The loved One who purchased redemption for me. Confusion and anarchy, hate and rapine,
Before and around with fell visage are seen,
Spreads terror and anguish, breathes slaughter and woe,
With hearts full of madness, the passions o'erflow.
Let me from this current in fearfulness flee,
Nor float on its tide, and be borne to the sea,
Its surges once setting and seething amain
Will ne'er yield their prey to go homeward again; “Take my hand O my Father;” the mist from my eyes,
Can be swept by thy hand, to reveal the great prize,
Life, life eternal, will it slip from my grasp?
O bear me up still till its glories I clasp.
The morning will break; but a little ahead
Is a night far more dark, can I make it my bed?
Shall I quaff of the stream from the throne welling up,
Or drink to the dregs from His wrath-dealing cup? Pray give me a place in thy kingdom my God,
I bow to thy scepter, draw near to thy rod,
In joy or affliction, whate'er be my lot,
Can thy love to my perishing soul be forgot?
Ah no! may my right hand her cunning forget,
If through the dark valley I praise thee not yet;
Then shine in thy brightness, illumine my path,
Give much of thy love, but protect from thy wrath.