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210

tr., John Brownlie

8.8.8.8

211

I

When clouds obscure the rising sun,

And darkness weeps where joy should sing;

Hail, then, my soul, the day begun,

And wait the light that noon shall bring.

II

If clouds like curtains veil the light,

When day at noon should brightly smile;

Up, then, my soul, it is not night,

The glory tarries but a while.

III

Wait till the hills that bar the west—

That pierce the clouds their summits crown—

Snatch, ere the day declines to rest,

The glory as the sun goes down.

IV

More bright than morn, than noon more fair,

The purple and the gold serene;

The light and rapture everywhere,

That sing, and shine, the clouds between.

V

If waits the joy of God betimes,

And tears bedew where smiles should be;

If dark the noon when sunlight climbs,

The light at eve thine eyes shall see.

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