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  Blessed Are They That Mourn  


Oh, deem not they are blest alone
    Whose lives a peaceful tenor keep;
The Power who pities man, hath shown
    A blessing for the eyes that weep.

The light of smiles shall fill again
    The lids that overflow with tears;
And weary hours of woe and pain
    Are promises of happier years.

There is a day of sunny rest
    For every dark and troubled night:
And grief may hide an evening guest,
    But joy shall come with early light.

And thou, who, o'er thy friend's low bier,
    Dost shed the bitter drops like rain,
Hope that a brighter, happier sphere
    Will give him to thy arms again.

Nor let the good man's trust depart,
    Though life its common gifts deny,--
Though with a pierced and bleeding heart
    And spurned of men, he goes to die.

For God hath marked each sorrowing day
    And numbered every secret tear,
And heaven's long age of bliss shall pay
    For all his children suffer here.

       - William Cullen Bryant

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