(The first half of each stanza should be subdued; the last half
confident and full of assurance.)
The way is dark, my Father! Cloud on cloud
Is gathering thickly o'er my head, and loud
The thunders roar above me. See, I stand
Like one bewildered! Father, take my hand,
And through the gloom
Lead safely home
Thy child!
The way is dark, my child! But leads to light.
I would not always have thee walk by sight.
My dealings now thou canst not understand.
I meant it so; but I will take thy hand,
And through the gloom
Lead safely home
My child!
The day goes fast, my Father! And the night
Is growing darkly down. My faithless sight
Sees ghostly visions. Fears, a spectral band,
Encompass me. O Father! Take my hand,
And from the night
Lead up to light
Thy child!
The day goes fast, my child! But is the night
Darker to me than Day? In me is light!
Keep close to me, and every spectral band
Of fears shall vanish. I will take thy hand,
And through the night
Lead up to light
My child!
The way is long, my Father! And my soul
Longs for the rest and quiet of the goal;
While yet I journey through this weary land,
Keep me from wandering. Father, take my hand;
Quickly and straight
Lead to Heaven's gate
Thy child!
The way is long, my child! But it shall be
Not one step longer than is best for thee;
And thou shalt know, at last, when thou shalt stand
Safe at the goal, how I did take thy hand,
And quick and straight
Lead to Heaven's gate
My child!
The path is rough, my Father! Many a thorn
Has pierced me; and my weary feet, all torn
And bleeding, mark the way. Yet Thy command
Bids me press forward. Father, take my hand;
Then, safe and blest,
Lead up to rest
Thy child!
The path is rough, my child! But oh! how sweet
Will be the rest, for weary pilgrims meet,
When thou shalt reach the borders of that land
To which I lead thee, as I take thy hand;
And safe and blest
With me shall rest
My child!
The throng is great, my Father! Many a doubt,
And fear and danger, compass me about;
And foes oppress me sore. I can not stand
Or go alone. O Father! take my hand,
And through the throng
Lead safe along
Thy child!
The throng is great, my child! But at thy side
Thy Father walks; then be not terrified,
For I am with thee; will thy foes command
To let thee freely pass;--will take thy hand,
And through the throng
Lead safe along
My child!
The cross is heavy, Father! I have borne
It long, and still do bear it. Let my worn
And fainting spirit rise to that blest land
Where crowns are given. Father, take my hand;
And reaching down
Lead to the crown
Thy child!
The cross is heavy, child! Yet there was One
Who bore a heavier cross for thee; my Son,
My well-beloved. For Him bear thine; and stand
With Him at last; and from thy Father's hand,
Thy cross laid down,
Receive a crown,
My child!
--_Henry N. Cobb._
84
Anxiety is the poison of human life.
85
Beware, as long as you live, of judging men by their outward appearance.
--_La Fontaine._
86
_Appearance_--Thou art after all what thou art. Deck thyself in a wig
with a thousand locks; ensconce thy legs in buskins an ell high; thou
still remainest just what thou art.
--_Goethe._
87
A man's reception depends very much upon his coat.
88