When, with error bewildered, our path becomes dreary,

And tears of despondency flow,

When the whole head is sick, and the whole heart is weary,

Despairing,—to whom shall we go?

When the thirsting soul turneth away from the springs

Of the pleasures this world can bestow,

And sighs for another, and flutters its wings,

Impatient,—to whom shall it go?

O, blest be that light which has parted the clouds,

And a path to the wanderer can show;

That pierces the veil which the future enshrouds,

And tells us to whom we should go!