Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning. Psalm 30:5
Sitting, sadly thinking, dreaming,
In the twilight’s deepening gloom,
While the fire throws dusky shadows,
All around the silent room.
Brightly rose the sun at morning,
Hope’s bright arch was in the air;
Earth with pearly dew was gemmèd,
All the world seemed bright and fair.
Once my life was bright as morning,
Love and hope their sunlight gave;
Now my happiness is buried
In a loved one’s foreign grave.
Now the shades of night are gathering,
And the sun has sunk away,
And the bright-hued clouds of sunset,
Are all fading into gray.
Night is coming, cold and cheerless,
Vanished quite each sunny ray;
Is the future dark and dreary
As those clouds of somber gray?
Little Minnie stood beside me,
And her earnest eyes met mine:
Auntie, you have often told me
We are ruled by power divine;
We know He made the burning sun,
As well as the gloomy night;
Tho’ the clouds to us look dark,
On the other side they’re bright.
Then I kissed her lips of crimson,
And the sadness left my heart;
Infant lips had taught the lesson
Worldly love could ne’er impart.