" Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning." " Lo, I am with you alway."

It came-the parting, and our weary
Hearts fell torn and bleeding at the feet
Of One who knew such pang:
His name-"The Man of Sorrows,"
No stranger He to grief, for once
Alone, despised, forsaken e'en of God,

His heart-divine, yet human-bore
The load of all creation's misery!
Man's hatred too-He bore it all,
And yet loved on.
And now we needed not to call, for
He had watched each moment
Of our fleeting joy with tenderest
Sympathy; His ear had caught the
"Farewell" which the lips refused
To utter; and His heart overflowed
With love-with yearning, pitying love,-
His arms He clasped around us,
And our heads cradled upon His
Breast; while to each weary child
Spake He of rest. And from those
Lips dropped on each wounded heart
The fragrant myrrh, soothing,-
Restoring (Cant. 5:13). Sweet was that hour of
Peace! Deep In the ocean calm, when
The waves are stilled, when the wild
Winds sink to rest, and the last
Thunder-roll dies murmuring away, and
Faint grows the note of the storm-
Bird's cry as she seeks her lonely nest.
But stealing-slowly stealing along
The eastern sky, are streaks of glory,-
Harbingers of morn, telling of
Coming radiance-of a cloudless day.
So stealing-sweetly stealing upon
The wondrous soul, came visions
Of His glory, of joys before unknown;
And on each listening ear fell there
A sound of words most sweet-
Speaking of love which could
Not change-of hope which fadeth
Not,-of meetings in a land where
Partings come not, and only joy
Is known.
….
So He spake peace; and from
Each heart burst forth a song
Of praise! We could not grieve:
Each aching void was filled;
For He was ours, and was not
He enough?