Be still, O heart, and cease thy sorrowing! Dost thou not know that God is near? Dost thou not know His love enfolds thee tenderly? Oh, dry thy tear! Why weepest thou before the tomb of earthly joys? Dost thou not see, An angel stands And beckons thee And saith, Come sup with me, Then will thy weeping cease? Oh, lift thine eyes and heed this visitant! Dost thou not catch a heav'n-sent strain That gently speaks to thee of bliss before unknown? Oh, glad refrain! Oh, blessed comfort from the Mother-heart of God, That whispers low Of unselfed love! Thou first must sow To find True bliss doth grow, As self is lost in love.
Log in to read this article
Not a subscriber to JSH-Online? Subscribe today and receive online access to The Christian Science Journal, Sentinel, and Herald including digital editions of the print periodicals, Web original articles, blogs, and podcasts, over 30,000 minutes of Sentinel Radio and audio chats, searchable archive going back to 1883! Learn More.