Words of Consolation

The sun still shines behind the clouds,
Then wherefore yield to sorrow?
If summer days were always bright,
The sunshine were less fair;
If life were but a dream of bliss,
How faint would be our prayer.
Remember 'tis a Father's hand
That measures out your woe,
He hears the sighs that wring your heart,
He counts the tears that flow.
'Tis but to purify the soul
That earth's dark sorrows come,
To draw you from earth's fading joys,
Unto your heavenly home.
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