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CCXLII

R. Grant

When gathering clouds around I view,

And days are dark and friends are few,

On Him I lean, Who not in vain

Experienced every human pain;

He sees my wants, allays my fears,

And counts and treasures up my tears.

If aught should tempt my soul to stray

From heavenly wisdom's narrow way;

To fly the good I would pursue,

Or do the sin I would not do;

Still He, Who felt temptation's power,

Shall guard me in that dangerous hour.

If wounded love my bosom swell,

Deceived by those I prized too well;

He shall His pitying aid bestow,

Who felt on earth severer woe,--

At once betray'd, denied, or fled,

By those who shared His daily bread.

191

If vexing thoughts within me rise,

And, sore dismay'd, my spirit dies;

Still He, Who once vouchsafed to bear

The sickening anguish of despair,

Shall sweetly soothe, shall gently dry,

The throbbing heart, the streaming eye.

When sorrowing o'er some stone I bend,

Which covers what was once a friend,

And from his voice, his hand, his smile,

Divides me for a little while;

Thou, Saviour, mark'st the tears I shed--

For Thou didst weep o'er Lazarus dead!

And O! when I have safely past

Through every conflict but the last;

Still, still unchanging, watch beside

My painful bed, for Thou hast died!

Then point to realms of cloudless day,

And wipe the latest tear away!

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