Classic Poem

In the old days, when sunny were the skies,
The coming tempest fearfully I scanned
Dreading the life I could not understand.
Then suddenly, I saw the storm-clouds rise.
The sun grew dim; trembling, I hid mine eyes,
When lo! led onward by a mighty Hand
I found a refuge in the weary land
And my heart bounded with a glad surprise.

No longer through the mists of fear I move,
For if mine eyes grow dim with blinding tears,
My hand still clasps the guiding hand of Love.
Love broodeth o'er the raging tempest-strife,
And Love shall crown with peace the future years;
And unto perfect Love I yield my life.