Faith
FAIN would I hold my lamp of life aloft
Like yonder tower built high above the reef;
Steadfast, though tempests rave or winds blow soft,
Clear, though the sky dissolve in tears of grief.
For darkness passes, storms shall not abide:
A little patience and the fog is past.
After the sorrow of the ebbing tide
The singing flood returns in joy at last.
The night is long and pain weighs heavily,
But God will hold his world above despair.
Look to the East, where up the lucid sky
The morning climbs! The day shall yet be fair!
