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7

COMFORT. (Isaiah xl.; Psalm cxlvii. 3, 4.)
Oh, faint hearts, bewildered, weary,
Desolate and near despair,
Wherefore harbour dire forebodings?
Wherefore live a life of care?

Seems it that the Lord forgetteth?
That your way is hid from Him?
Seems it that all judgment ceaseth?
Wherefore let your faith grow dim?

Know ye not, have ye not heard it,
That the everlasting God
Never wearieth nor fainteth,
Charged with all His creature's load?

Hark! He speaketh to His people,
"Comfort ye, oh, comfort ye!"
He hath sent to you good tidings,
Pardoned your iniquity.

He shall feed you, He shall lead you,
He hath made, and He will bear;
He that spread yon vault of brightness,
To whom will ye Him compare?

Come out 'neath the starlit heavens,
Lift your eyes and wondering gaze;
Know the infinite Creator,
Muse upon His works and ways.

How to keen and earnest vision,
Do His marvels multiply!
Oh, the grand thought-staggering numbers
Of the wonders of the sky!