VII “Grief Dies Like Joy; the Tears Upon My Cheek”

Grief dies like joy; the tears upon my cheek

Will disappear like dew. Dear God! I know

Thy kindly Providence hath made it so,

And thank thee for the law. I am too weak

To make a friend of Sorrow, or to wear,

With that dark angel ever by my side

( Though to thy heaven there be no better guide ),

A front of manly calm. Yet, for I hear

How woe hath cleansed, how grief can deify,

So weak a thing it seems that grief should die,

And love and friendship with it, I could pray,

That if it might not gloom upon my brow,

Nor weigh upon my arm as it doth now,

No grief of mine should ever pass away.