"Joy Returneth With the Morning" by John Lynch Adair
And the winds, rushing from their caves,
Lashed the sea into mountain waves;
And the ship, under bending spars,
In utter darkness plowed the deep.
Unto Him whom the winds obeyed
On Gallilee, I humbly prayed
That in his keeping I might sleep.
In a haven, calm and bright
With tropic sunshine, where the scent
Of orange blooms made redolent
The breeze that was so soft and light
That scarcely there a wavelet broke
Upon the bosom of the bay,
When next morn' our good ship lay—
To glad consciousness I 'woke.
So may it be, good Lord of all,
When into darkness sinks my sun,
And my stars go out, one by one,
To such calm slumber may I fall.
And that which only faith had been,
Awake to find a truth to be,
Where no white sails go out to sea,
But are forever coming in.