We all, along life's dusty road, Are bearing many a needless load; We bend beneath its weary weight, And think our burdens far too great, So prone are we, forsooth, to borrow Unreal troubles from to-morrow,— Naming some shadowy semblance, Sorrow.
Too oft, we climb the distant hills To catch a glimpse of coming ills; Peering through mist and cloud, to see If shadows in our path may be. Still, God is near—our guiding star. His helping hands reach out so far: He knows our need, where'er we are.
Life's duties we can never choose. Our burdens we must not refuse; Yet, never let us add to these A crowd of phantom miseries; Nor grieve the loss of friends so dear. Are they not with us everywhere? We touch the shining robes they wear.
I know that sorrow comes to all, And shrouds us in her sombre pall; That every heart sometime must see Its garden of Gethsemane,— "Must kneel alone in anguish there, And battle with some fierce despair;" Yet God is with us, even there.
Darkness and clouds around His face Cannot obscure its wondrous grace; Nor does He ever fail to send The gracious Comforter and Friend. Then let us journey on, through faith, Beyond the mystery of death, Which now no sting or terror hath.
