(Luke 24. 15)
And he drew near and talked with them,
But they perceived him not,
And mourned, unconscious of that light,
The gloom, the darkness, and the night
That wrapt his burial spot.
Wearied with doubt, perplexed and sad,
They knew nor help nor guide;
While he who bore the secret key
To open every mystery,
Unknown was by their side.
Thus often when we feel alone,
Nor help nor comfort near,
'Tis only that our eyes are dim,
Doubting and sad we see not him
Who waiteth still to hear.
"The darkness gathers overhead,
The morn will never come."
Did we but raise our downcast eyes,
In the white-flushing eastern skies
Appears the glowing sun.
In all our daily joys and griefs
In daily work and rest,
To those who seek him Christ is near,
Our bliss to calm, to soothe our care,
In leaning on his breast.
Open our eyes, O Lord, we pray,
To see our way, our Guide;
That by the path that here we tread,
We, following on, may still be led
In thy light to abide.