God of wisdom, power, and might,
Foes may hate and friends disown me,
Show thy face and all is bright!"
And, as he sang and prayed, that strange joy arose within him which, like the sweetness of night flowers, is born of darkness and tribulation. The soul hath in it somewhat of the divine, in that it can have joy in endurance beyond the joy of indulgence.
They mistake who suppose that the highest happiness lies in wishes accomplished—in prosperity, wealth, favor, and success. There has been a joy in dungeons and on racks passing the joy of harvest. A joy strange and solemn, mysterious even to its possessor. A white stone dropped from that signet-ring, peace, which a dying Saviour took from his own bosom, and bequeathed to those who endure the cross, despising the shame.
As father Dickson rode on, he lifted his voice, in solemn exultation:—
"Soul, then know thy full salvation;
Rise o'er fear, doubt, and care;
Joy to find, in every station,
Something still to do or bear.