The Mourning Hour
Weeping bitter tears of sorrow in the night hour,
The dawn unseen through the fears, even as a dream.
Stretching out for hope, brushing a moment's flame,
A light of joy for days passed, feeling granted strength.
Oh to stand once more in the presence of my God,
To feel His touch on my lowly heart as I sing.
Such joy did I feel on the garden's path,
As we talked of coming hopes for the morning.
By His side in the warmth of the first days,
We counted the animals and gave them name.
The stars of the evening sky we numbered,
And He smiled upon hearing the words I sang.
To cast aside my earthly burden of sorrows,
Feeling the joy of His love once more.
Reaching beyond the veil of the heavens,
And know hope in sight of the Morning Star.
The night is heavy upon me, anguished tears are shed,
Toil of the road I travel long, has brought life's gift low.
yet in the waking hour to come, hope I can perceive.
His only joy in the sinful, the praise they may yet sing.
For his anger endureth but a moment; in his favour is life:
Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.
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