'I will not leave you comfortless:'
So the benignant Saviour said;
No! still He loves to cheer and bless,
And, round His faithful followers' head,
Streams of eternal light to shed.
To Him in sorrow's hour I'll go,
And those sweet words of peace recall,
To heal my wounds, to soothe my woe:
Like honeyed balsam they will fall,
And chase all earthly misery-all.
'I will not leave you comfortless:'
With thoughts like these the soul may rest,
And smile, unsaddened by distress,
And still the agitated breast,
And feel that pain itself is blest.