The clouds hang heavy o'er me,
And dark, and chill the night;
Yet clouds, nor chill, nor darkness
Can shut Thee from my sight,
Nor hush the song my heart still sings,
Nor stay my soul's uplifted wings.

Thy clouds are fraught with mercies-
Tho' oft of darkest hue;
Yet faith's keen vision fears not
To pierce the darkness through,
And find the side that's toward Thy face
Alight with glory of Thy grace.

When sorrow, like the rain drops,
Falls heavily and cold, I turn me to God's sun-light,
And there mine eyes behold-
All broken into rainbow hues-
What I had thought were sorrow's dews.

Life's storms and clouds are many,
But God is in them all;
Apart from Him, nor sorrow,
Nor rain can ever fall;
No cloud that e'er o'er-shadowed me,
But drew me closer, Lord, to Thee.

The storm that broke on Calv'ry,
And hid the noon-day sun-
That made the stout heart tremble-
Was borne for me, by One
Who wrought sweet peace from deepest woe;
-God's clouds have never hung so low

They wrapped Him in their darkness,
They hid from Him God's face;
Called forth that cry so bitter,
That He might show me grace;
That storm, now passed and gone for aye,
Hath bought me everlasting day.

And now His clouds, which shadow
My sun a little while,
Remind me of His sorrow
Which won for me His smile:-
The remnants of that tempest wild
Which brought me to Him, reconciled.

So, bright, or dark-whatever,
They can not slip His hand;
Their gilded edges tell me
My Father hath command;
What tempest e'er can do me harm,
Beneath His strong, and loving arm?

H. McD.