By cloud and storm Thou teachest me.
While o’er life’s main Thou leadest me
The haven reached, at home with Thee,
I’ll bless Thee for their ministry.

I may not know what storm, or shoal,
Awaits me on life’s tide;
I may not know if joy, or woe,
Shall tend my footsteps as I go,
The while I shall abide-
Life’s sea is rude and wide.

I only know the past is full
Of clouds of varying hue;
I may not see why this should be,
Or that, but oh, I know that He
(Though all should fail,) is true,
He’ll safely bear me through.

This strange and tangled web I weave,
Mysterious to me!
His love alone could mark and own,
A work so miserably done,
Yet He accepts most graciously,
What love hath wrought imperfectly

I may not draw aside the veil
That kindly intervenes:
But, come what may, I know some day,
He’ll tell me in His own blest way,
What every trial means
By which my heart He weans.

No sorrow’s ever small to Him,
By which I learn His love.
His tender heart feels every dart,
The bitter tear, that oft will start,
Doth e’er His pity move.
How infinite His love!

My grief, however great it be,
His greater heart doth know,
And oft I need-(though heart may bleed)
The knife that roots out some rank weed,
He will not let it grow,
Because He loves me so.

Forgive, if I should murmur, Lord,
And chafe against Thy ways;
Some day, this fast retreating past,
With all its darkening shadows cast,
Will all Thy .mercies trace
And magnify Thy grace.

Ah! then I’ll know, as now I would,
The wisdom of Thy ways.
A troubled dream this life will seem
When I shall catch the first bright gleam
Of glory from Thy face.
Earth’s clouds will have no place.

Life’s storms and clouds and shadows o’er,
The school of sorrow past,-
The garnered grain needs not the rain-
Yet, through the discipline of pain,
And earth’s rude tempest blast,
He’ll bring me home at last.

These threatening storms that surge and roar,
These waves that wildly lash the shore,
But make me long for Thee the more,
And tell me, "night will soon be o’er."

H. McD.