The stormy night is dark before the dawn,
Dismal and overcast;
But rosy on the mountain's eastern lawn
Faith's eye beholds the heavenly banners borne;
He comes!—He comes at last!
The lie is loudest ere the Truth's revealed:
The night is nearly past:
Seek they a sign? then say, "The sign is sealed,—
The lame, the blind, the sinners all are healed:"
He comes!—He comes at last!
The flowerets, folded in their secret cell,
Heed not the stormy blast:
His thoughts they are: they hear his tread, and tell
From lip to lip, from nectar-cup to bell,
"He comes!—He comes at last!"
"He comes," said we? this was his word sublime
Ere from our sight he passed,
"Lo I am with you till the end of time:"
Then we—though deaf to reason as to rhyme—
Know him at last—at last!
