The voice that from the glory came

To tell how Moses died unseen,

And waken Joshua’s spear of flame

To victory on the mountains green,

Its trumpet tones are sounding still,

When Kings or Parents pass away,

They greet us with a cheering thrill

Of power and comfort in decay.

Behind thus soft bright summer cloud

That makes such haste to melt and die,

Our wistful gaze is oft allow’d

A glimpse of the unchanging sky:

Let storm and darkness do their worst;

For the lost dream the heart may ache,

The heart may ache, but may not burst;

Heaven will not leave thee nor forsake.

One rock amid the weltering floods,

One torch in a tempestuous night,

One changeless pine in fading woods: —

Such is the thought of Love and Might,

True Might and ever-present Love,

When death is busy near the throne,

Auth Sorrow her keen sting would prove

On Monarchs orphan’d and alone.

In that lorn hour and desolate,

Who could endure a crown? but He,

Who singly bore the world’s sad weight,

Is near, to whisper, “Lean on Me:

Thy days of toil, thy nights of care,

Sad lonely dreams in crowded hall,

Darkness within, while pageants glare

Around — the Cross supports them all.”

Oh, Promise of undying Love!

While Monarchs seek thee for repose,

Far in the nameless mountain cove

Each pastoral heart thy bounty knows.

Ye, who in place of shepherds true

Come trembling to their awful trust,

Lo here the fountain to imbue

With strength and hope your feeble dust.

Not upon Kings or Priests alone

The power of that dear word is spent;

It chants to all in softest tone

The lowly lesson of Content:

Heaven’s light is pour’d on high and low;

To high and low Heaven’s Angel spake;

“Resign thee to thy weal or woe,

I ne’er will leave thee nor forsake.”