Else the next cloud that veils the skies,
Drives all these thoughts away.
620. L. M. Bowring.
The Same.
1On light-beams breaking from above,
The eternal course of mercy runs;
And by ten thousand cords of love
Our heavenly Father guides his sons.
2Amidst affliction's thickest host,
And sorrow's darkest, mightiest band,