Page:Poems Angier.djvu/156

And nightly with a prayer for all,
 I grateful seek my bed,
With tender thoughts of Him, who had
 Not where to lay His head.

Come daily to our dear abode,
 Those bowed with secret care;
And 'tis our highest, purest joy
 The mourner's grief to share;
Their spirits cheer, whose cherished hopes
 Have known a withering blight;
And tell them of His changeless love,
 Who makes the burden light.

Our sky is not a cloudless one,
 No mortal's e'er has been;
But ever, in the darkest hour,
 Our Father's face is seen;
When through the furnace walking,
 One with celestial form
Assures us both shall work for good,—
 Life's sunshine and its storm.

Contented, yes, contented—
 Heaven grant that every home
May shadow forth the perfect bliss
 Of that bright world to come;