As above the darkest storm cloud Shines the sun, serenely bright Waiting to restore to nature All the glory of his light, So, behind each cloud of sorrow, So, in each affliction, stands, Hid, an angel, with a blessing From the Father in his hand. As without the tempest, pouring O’er the earth the welcome rain, All were but a fruitless desert, Barren sand for ripen’ng grain, So if ne’er a cloud of sadness Veiled the sunshine of the soul, If affliction’s waves were never Suffered o’er the heart to roll. Love and faith might fail forever To bring forth their fruits of peace; Heaven’s good seed of truth would perish In a thorny wilderness. So, with cloud and storm and tempest Grows our earthly summer dim, That the rebel heart, our Father Thus may win to turn to Him. |