The morning sun
Breaks forth in triumph from the heavy clouds
That hid His face. The waves of Galilee,
Gleaming far distant in the misty east,
Cast off the shroud of night. The air is full
Of waking glory. But of all who feel
The gladness and the freshness of the morn,
Those only who have passed through deepest gloom
Receive the fulness of that new, sweet peace
His words have given,—and they are comforted!