Though the morn may be serene, Not a threat’ning cloud be seen; Who can undertake to say ’Twill be pleasant all the day? Tempests suddenly may rise, Darkness overspread the skies; Lightnings flash, and thunders roar, Ere a short–lived day be o’er. | Often thus, the child of grace, Enters on his christian race; Guilt and fear are overborne, ’Tis with him a summer’s morn: 222 While his new–felt joys abound, All things seem to smile around; And he hopes it will be fair, All the day, and all the year. | Should we warn him of a change, He would think the caution strange; He no change or trouble fears, Till the gath’ring storm appears; 2323See also Book 1, Hymn 44 Till dark clouds his sun conceal, Till temptation’s pow’r he feel; Then he trembles, and looks pale, All his hopes and courage fail. | But the wonder–working Lord Soothes the tempest by his word; Stills the thunder, stops the rain, And his sun breaks forth again: Soon the cloud again returns, Now he joys, and now he mourns; Oft his sky is overcast, Ere the day of life be past. | Tried believers too can say, In the course of one short day, Though the morning has been fair, Proved a golden hour of prayer: Sin, and Satan, long ere night, Have their comforts put to flight; Ah! what heart–felt peace and joy, Unexpected storms destroy. | Dearest Savior, call us soon To thine high eternal noon; 223 Never there shall tempest rise To conceal thee from our eyes: Satan shall no more deceive, We no more thy Spirit grieve; But through cloudless, endless days, Sound, to golden harps, thy praise. | |