SUPPLICATION.
A cup of pleasure passing sweet,
Sometimes, this life of hopes and fears,—
But oft, a fountain full of grief,
O’erflowing still with lonely tears.
When brightest skies above us bend,
Dark o’er our heads the tempest lowers;—
At best, a sombre happiness,
A partial light, at best, is ours.
What waits beyond,—of good or ill,
We vainly struggle to discern;—
Poor, sinful, blind, and comfortless,
O pitying Christ! to Thee we turn.
Our only help and refuge, Thou;—
Give joy for sorrow, peace for strife;
We bring our burdened hearts to Thee,
O Love divine! our Light, our Life.