Wearied When The Night Shades Gather
Wearied, when the night shades gather,
With the cares that have oppressed;
Anxious for the days before thee,
Longing, O so much for rest;
Listen, hear his gentle whisper wafted then to thee:
“Fear not for the morrow; as thy days thy strength shall be.”
Sinking ‘neath the heavy burden
Thou hast borne for many a day,
As its weight for thee increases,
Almost falling by the way;
Listen, as again he whispers lovingly to thee:
“Courage, I have promised as thy days thy strength shall be.”
Heart sick with the disappointments,
With some hidden griefs to bear,
Who will heal thy wounded spirit?
Who thy secret sorrow share?
Listen, it is then he whispers sweetly unto thee:
“For each bitter trial, as thy days thy strength shall be.”
Fearest in some nearing conflict,
That the arm of flesh will fail?
Knowing thou alone canst never
‘Gainst the enemy prevail?
Listen, for once more he whispers tenderly to thee:
“I will ne’er forsake thee, as thy days thy strength shall be.”