O Thou dry’st the mourner’s tear!How dark this world would be,
If, when deceived and wounded here,
We could not fly to Thee.
The friends, who in our sunshine live,
When winter comes are flown:
And he, who has but tears to give
Must weep those tears alone.
But Thou wilt heal that broken heart,
Which, like the plants that throw
Their fragrance from the wounded part,
Breathes sweetness out of woe.
When Joy no longer soothes or cheers,
And e’en the hope that threw
A moment sparkle o’er our tears,
Is dimm’d and vanish’d too!
Oh! Who would dare life stormy doom,
Did not thy wing of love
Come, brightly wafting through the gloom
Our peace branch from above?
Then sorrow touch’d by Thee, grows bright
With more than rapture’s ray:
As darkness shows us world of light
We never saw by day!