All through the night the storm is raging,
The howling wind, the torrent's roar;
Destructive elements seem waging
An endless fight—earth shrinks before
Their seeming power—but with the morning
She smiles again, her battle won;
With shining tears her face adorning
She greets the coming of the sun.
And so may I, when storms of error
Have surged about me through the night,
Be still and know its phantom terror
Will flee before the coming light.
The light of Truth, whose tender gleaming
Dispels all sorrow, pain, and fear,
Will waken me from doleful dreaming,
And my true selfhood will appear.
