Classic Poem

I

I only ask the strength — the grace
To take life's crosses as they come;
I may not always see God's face;
In darkness I am dumb.
Why should I murmur at the way?
Life must have winter, even as May.

II

I count my gain, and not my loss,
And still my soul is comforted
Though every path leads to a cross
Whose shadows hide Love's dead.
Out of the blackness of the night
God weaves a laurel for the light.

III

And still far off the light appears,
And still sweet benedictions fall;
The tears we shed are April tears —
Sunlight is in them all!
Sorrow endureth — not for long: —
Joy cometh with the morning song!