Poems (Hale)/"Upon whom doth not His Light arise?"

by Mary Whitwell Hale

"UPON WHOM DOTH NOT HIS LIGHT ARISE?"

Is there a secret, hidden place,
 How lone soever it may be,
In which Faith's vision may not trace
 The light of God's divinity?

Thou poor afflicted one! whose eye,
 Dim with the frequent-falling tear,
Can see no friendly beacon nigh,
 Thy spirit's struggling grief to cheer,—

Lift up thine eye! a splendor streams
 All glorious from God's throne of light.
Full on the trusting eye it beams,
 And turns to day grief's darkest night.

Thou weary one! who fain wouldst lay
 The burden of thy labors down,
To share the only cloudless day,
 And win the only fadeless crown,—

Not to the dreams of dark despair,
 Be all thy weary moments given:
Breathe forth thy soul in grateful prayer,
 And patient wait the light from heaven.

Darkness and clouds are o'er the way,
 That leads us to our heavenly rest;
But faith can view the beaming ray,
 That gilds the regions of the blest.

Turn to that rest thy tearful eye,
 And God's own hand thy steps shall guide,
Till thou shalt see his mansions nigh,
 And stand his glorious throne beside.