GOD, THE COMFORTER OF THOSE WHO ARE CAST DOWN.
By R. Smith
In view of dear and loved ones gone,
We oft feel desolate and lone.
We seek man's sympathy in vain;
A passing look we hardly gain. But few can feel another's woe;
And fewer still will with us go
To share the depth of heart-felt grief;
And sacrifice to give relief To bear affliction's chastening rod,
Our confidence must be in God.
With this above the cloud we soar,
And soon we'll shout our suffering o'er Disease and dark misfortune's frown,
Then will not sink our spirits down.
We'll shout, O death where is thy sting?
O grave thou canst no victory bring! By Jesus, our Deliverer, freed,
No light of sun or moon we need
His glory is the city's light,
And with him there we've all a right. Each bitter pang which here we bear,
Will be a gem of glory there.
The eternal weight of glory, wrought
By suffering is not dearly bought. Be cold indifference grief or pain,
Mine to endure—the loss is gain,
Through sorrow's depths I here would wade
To be through sufferings perfect made.
R. SMITH.
West Wilton, N. H.