Grows dark thy path before thee?

Press on! still undismayed;

Heaven shines resplendent o’er thee,

Though earth be wrapped in shade.

And God, thy trust, hath given,

With word from swerving free,

The angels of high heaven

A charge concerning thee.

Then though thy feet may falter

Even at early morn,

And from hope’s burning altar

The light may be withdrawn,—

Yet from thy self-prostration

Thou shalt awake in power;

From tears and lamentation,

To conquest every hour.

Strong in thy perfect weakness,

Thy strength shall never fail;

Mighty in holy meekness,

Thine arm shall still prevail.