The past is dark with sin and shame,
The fu­ture dim with doubt and fear;
But, Fa­ther, yet we praise Thy name,
Whose guard­ian love is al­ways near.

For man has striv­en, ag­es long,
With fal­ter­ing steps to come to Thee,
And in each pur­pose high and strong
The in­flu­ence of Thy grace could see.

He could not breathe an ear­nest pray­er,
But Thou wast kind­er than he dreamed,
As age by age brought hopes more fair,
And near­er still Thy king­dom seemed.

But nev­er rose with­in his breast
A trust so calm and deep as now—
Shall not the wea­ry find a rest?
Father, Preserver, an­swer Thou!

’Tis dark around, ’tis dark ab­ove,
But through the sha­dow streams the sun;
We can­not doubt Thy cer­tain love;
And man’s true aim shall yet be won!