On the earth when deep snows lie
Still the sun is in the sky,
And when most we miss his fire
He is ever drawing nigher.
In the darkest winter day
Thou, God, art not far away;
When the nights grow colder, drearer,
Father, thou art coming nearer!
For thee coming I would watch
With my hand upon the latch—
Of the door, I mean, that faces
Out upon the eternal spaces!
SONG OF THE WAITING DEAD.
With us there is no gray fearing,
With us no aching for lack!
For the morn it is always nearing,
And the night is at our back.
At times a song will fall dumb,
A thought-bell burst in a sigh,
But no one says, "He will not come!"
She says, "He is almost nigh!"
The thing you call a sorrow
Is our delight on its way:
We know that the coming morrow
Comes on the wheels of to-day!
Our Past is a child asleep;
Delay is ripening the kiss;
The rising tear we will not weep
Until it flow for bliss.
OBEDIENCE.
Trust him in the common light;
Trust him in the awesome night;
Trust him when the earth doth quake:
Trust him when thy heart doth ache;
Trust him when thy brain doth reel
And thy friend turns on his heel;