There's never a night but is followed by day,
And the darkest to dawn must give place:
There's never a sorrow that crosses our way
But is sent with a message of grace.
It comes to the peasant, it comes to the king,
It comes in our pleasures and pain;
It comes from the Father of mercies, to bring
To His fold His own stray ones again.
O soul! is thy burden too heavy to bear?