Both joy and sorrow come from Thee,
Who in our life's variety
Dost good with seeming evil blend:
Thou wakest peace from suffering,
And sadness and affliction bring
Sweet hope and blessing in the end.
The cloud may sometimes hide Thy hand,
And o'er the course which Thou hast planned
Thick mists and midnight darkness rest;
Yet Thou dost take Thine onward way,
Dispensing light and wakening day,
And blessing all as Thou art blest.
Adversity refines the soul,
Opens the watercourse where roll
The waves of after-joy. It sweeps
The earth's defilements as it flows,
And smooths the grave for sweet repose,
Where the world-wearied pilgrim sleeps.