Steadfast, though tempests rave or winds blow soft,
Clear, though the sky dissolve in tears of grief.
For darkness passes; storms shall not abide,
A little patience and the fog is past.
After the sorrow of the ebbing tide
The singing flood returns in joy at last.
The night is long and pain weighs heavily;
But God will hold His world above despair.
Look to the east, where up the lucid sky
The morning climbs! The day shall yet be fair!