Blessed are They that Mourn

Oh, deem not they are blest alone   Whose lives a peaceful tenor keep; The Power who pities man, has shown   A blessing for the eyes that weep. The light of smiles shall fill again   The lids that overflow with tears; And weary hours of woe and pain   Are promises of happier years. There is a day of sunny rest   For every dark and troubled night; And grief may bide an evening guest,   But joy shall come with early light. And thou, who o’er thy friend’s low bier   Dost shed the bitter drops like rain, Hope that a brighter, happier sphere   Will give him to thy arms again. Nor let the good man’s trust depart,   Though life its common gifts deny,— Though with a pierced and bleeding heart,   And spurned of men, he goes to die. For God hath marked each sorrowing day   And numbered every secret tear, And heaven’s long age of bliss shall pay   For all his children suffer here.