Back of wild clouds that spill their brew of shadow
On wave and hill and vale.
The faithful sun and faithful stars we trace;
Rack of the thunder and the hurtling hail,
Rack of the wailing clamor of the tempest,
Blue lies the rhythmic hush of boundless space.
Back of all wrongs, all bitterness, and sighing,
Of scorn and jeers and stings.
Back of the fair, the high hope sacrificed,
Back of the heartaches and the wanderings.
Forever gleams the sweet home-light of heaven.
Forever stands, wide-armed, the waiting Christ.
