There are days of deepest sorrow
In the season of our life;
There are wild, despairing moments,
There are hours of mental strife.
There are hours of stony anguish,
When the tears refuse to fall;
But the waiting time my brothers,
Is the hardest time of all. Youth and love are oft impatient,
Seeking things beyond their reach;
And the heart grows sick with hoping,
Ere it learns what life can teach.
For, before the fruit be gathered,
We must see the blossoms fall;
And the waiting time my brothers,
Is the hardest time of all. Loving once and loving ever,
It is sad to watch for years
For the light whose fitful shining
Makes a rainbow of our tears.
It is sad to count at morning
All the hours to evenfall;
Oh! the waiting time, my brothers,
Is the hardest time of all. We can hear the heat of conflict,
Though the sudden crashing blow,
Beating back our gathered forces,
For a moment lay us low.
We may rise again beneath it,
None the weaker for our fall;
But the waiting time, my brothers,
Is the hardest time of all. For it wears the eager spirit,
As the salt waves wear the stone,
And hope's gorgeous garb grows threadbare,
Till its brightest tints are gone.
Then amid youth's radiant tresses,
Silent snows begin to fall;
Oh! the waiting time, my brothers,
Is the hardest time of all. Yet at last we learn the lesson,
That God knoweth what is best,
And a silent resignation
Makes the spirit calm and blest:
For, perchance a day is coming,
For the changes of our fate,
When our hearts will thank Him meekly
That he taught us how to wait.