THERE’S NOT A CLOUD.

Heaviness may endure for a night.

There’s not a cloud that floats below

Can quench the Star of Day,

And vain the vapors earth can throw

To reach the heavenly ray;

And fast before the orient flame

The mists of morning flee;

And so our Father is the same,

Though dark our souls may be.

And He will clear the deepest night

That clouds his children’s sky,

And bid the dullest tear be bright,

That dims the doubting eye.

On storms where yet the lightnings gleam

His rainbows often play,

And brighter is the moonlight’s beam

As tempest breaks away.